Persevere
by Cinvxten
Summary: Stan is plauged by a new feeling for Kyle he's never had before. But will Kyle even return those emotions? Whatever happens, Stan knows he must persevere! Rated M for language and other adult content treachery, rape, suicide attempts
1. Heart attacks

This is my newest fic. Hopefully people will enjoy it. I know I enjoyed coming up with these ideas, haha.

Okay, so let's get this over with-

**Disclaimers:**

**I don't not own South Park or any of its characters. In fact, I own hardly anything at all... sigh...**

**This does have homosexual themes, so if you don't like it, don't read. **

**This also has some mature themes, but not so vivid that it becomes disturbing. I just thought I'd add it in just in case.**

**Please Read and Review! Thankly muchly! Now, ENJOY!!**

**Persevere**

By Cinvxten

Stanley Marsh drooped low to his desk, covering half of his face with his arms as they folded lazily over the faux wood. He was barely awake, propped up only by the curve of his spine and the solid desk in front of him. His eyes became heavy and he blinked hard in a vain attempt to knock the sleepiness from the glazed over orbs.

The Algebra teacher was yapping away with fervor, waving his meter stick wildly in the air. Stan had to admit that the man's passion for math was staggering and somewhat… deflating. Stan felt as if he was just being talked at instead of actually being taught. He glanced slowly at the paper beneath his arms and noted with no surprise what so ever that the page was entirely blank. Mr. Brozeski didn't slow down enough for him to keep up anyway.

The Junior yawned and stared absently at his raven colored bangs as they fell in shocks from his tired head. He took a moment to examine the rest of his body, finding it worlds more interesting than the Xs and Ys floating around on the board. Stan still played football to this day and worked out regularly, but still couldn't get over the lanky plateau that prevented him from furthering his muscle development. He sighed as he realized that he would be tall and thin and not so defined for the rest of his life.

Suddenly, a paper fluttered from above him out of nowhere and Stan had to choke down a gasp or risk disrupting the class. After the initial shock went away, the teen finally managed with a groan to bring life back to his arms long enough to unfurl the paper and read it.

"You really should stay awake, you'll get in trouble."

With a snort, Stan chucked the paper back over his shoulder. Kyle was too much sometimes. He knew that Stan had insomnia problems and had no trouble staying awake… at two in the morning at least.

"Hey!" Kyle hissed sharply as the crumpled ball landed once again onto his desk. Stan smirked with his eye lids half closed as he heard the ruffling of paper behind him. He knew that his best friend was expecting a reply. True enough, the harsh whisper returned. "You could at least write something back, dude."

"I can't move my arms, I have leprosy," Stan mumble back, not sure if Kyle could even hear him.

"Leprosy; that's a new one," the red head scoffed. "However, Leprosy has nothing to do with the paralysis of your arms, you know."

"On a scale of 1 to nerd…?" Stan began, turning around just enough to lay eyes on his friend. "Nerd."

"Call me what you want, but I'm right," Kyle gloated. He shoved the paper and pencil into Stan's face and demanded. "Write something."

"But we're talking now, there's no point in writing!" The other boy started to turn toward the front of the class again, but a sharp tug to his ear caused him to whip back around. "OW! What?!" he shrieked, maybe a little too loudly.

The only reply was having a piece of paper once again being shoved at him. "God, you're so stubborn, you know that?"

"I'm not the only one," chuckled Kyle, seeing that he got his way for once. Stan returned the smile when he sat up with a start. He clutched his chest and his face contorted briefly into a look of shock. "Hey, dude… what's the matter?"

"Nothing, nothing," Stan assured quickly, sounding a lot more confident than he felt. "My chest hurts for some reason, that's all." He glanced again toward Kyle, making eye contact, only to have his heart lurch painfully again. This time, he couldn't keep it down and actually let out a small yelp.

"Dude, that's a really big nothing!" Kyle gasped, half standing out of his desk.

"What's wrong, ladies?" Mr. Brozeski asked fiercely, slapping his meter stick against the chalk board with a resonating snap.

"I think Stan is sick," Kyle informed, his voice taking on a worried tone. "He might be having a heart attack. Can we go to the nurse?"

The teacher stood still for a minute, trying to judge whether this was just another ploy to get out of his class a little early. "Can't it wait till my lesson's done?"

"Dude!"

"Fine, get out of here. But I expect you to have your homework done. Both of you."

As they walked down the hall, Stan grasped his chest as his heart pounded even harder. He was slumped against Kyle, who was supporting him as they made their way to the nurse's office. Their footsteps echoed in the eerily empty halls, the bland tile of the high school causing their sneakers to squeak.

"Are you sure you're alright, Stan?" Kyle asked, his words quivering as they fell upon his best buddy's ears.

"I don't know," the dark haired boy answered honestly. "These attacks have been happening more and more frequently ever since I hit puberty."

"You think it could be some kind of recessive disease that's finally occurring?"

"Okay," Stan spat. "Once again: nerd alert."

"This is serious, dude! I'm actually concerned for you and all you do is call me a nerd?"

Stan readjusted himself onto Kyle's shoulder. "If the boot fits…." He laughed hoarsely, always enjoying pushing Kyle's buttons. Soon the other boy joined in, understanding that it was all in good humor. Their laughs spread swiftly through the halls and filled them with their joviant sound.

"Wow, I can hear your heart, man!" Kyle said with a start. "Even from over here. Geeze! You'd better get well soon."

The two of them had been friends since they were in kindergarten. Looking back on it now, it was amazing how long that period of time actually was. And sure, there was Kenny and Cartman, but those two didn't even come close to being like the friends Stan and Kyle were. They knew everything about each other; every secret they ever knew.

But now these attacks…. Stan was starting to get worried. He only got them when he was around Kyle, and they were intensifying each day. "Maybe I'm allergic to him," Stan murmured, his words muffled by Kyle's bony shoulder.

"What was that?" the red head asked.

"I said, 'Leprosy sucks.'"

"You idiot!"

When they finally reached the office, Kyle set Stan down onto a nearby stool, the black haired teen shivering from the cold of the steel. He already missed the warmth of Kyle's arms. A red shade crept over his face as Stan began to day dream, but was rudely brought back to reality by the nurse.

"Thank you Kyle, you can go back to class now," she insisted.

"Can't I stay and-"

"Your studies are important too, young man. Stan will be fine in my care." And with that, the woman practically threw Kyle back into the hallway. "So, what seems to be the matter?"

"My chest… well," Stan began, but after feeling his heart beat again, he furrowed his brow in confusion. "Well, my chest did hurt, but… it doesn't anymore."

"Mm-hmm," the nurse confirmed, nodding half heartedly. "What do you think it was? Gas?"

"No, I- I've had that before," Stan admitted with a little embarrassment. "This was different. It was like my heart was pounding too hard and was going to rip out of my chest."

"Mm-hmm," the nurse repeated, looking over some papers, flipping them across her clipboard. "I know personally that you are a patient that has strange illnesses. Particularly when you're under stress. You would periodically go to the nurse's because you vomited often, even back in elementary school. And you still do, sometimes, if but a little less frequently."

Stan rolled his eyes. He knew where this was going.

"And when asked why you threw up, you would always answer 'It's that-'"

"It's that bitch, Wendy," Stan finished, resting his elbow on the counter and laying his head in his palm. "Yeah, I know all that."

"Well, the way I see it," the nurse continued. "Is that you are a perfectly healthy young boy who just has panic attacks when he's around… the ladies." For some reason, she tried to emphasize the "lady" part and wiggled her eyebrows as if implying something. Adults could be so stupid….

"But," Stan began, speaking out loud more to himself than to anyone. "I only get these attacks when I'm with Kyle."

The nurse snapped her head up so quickly that Stan thought her neck would break. "You w-w-what?"

"Yeah, I only ever get these pains in my chest when I'm around my friend, Kyle."

The nurse rapidly flipped through her papers, her eyes darting across the pages frantically. Stan had no idea what she was looking for, and was pretty sure that she had no idea either. "This… um… well, you see Stan- wait. Sometimes, in a young man's life he- no, that's not right. Argh, why am I always the one who has to say these things?"

"What? What?!" Stan asked, nervously straightening out his back and inching closer to the nurse.

"Okay, I'll look into this a little more," she stated briefly. "I want you to avoid your friend Kyle for a while. See if the attacks stop at all." She placed her hand on her chin and spoke now more to herself than Stan. "We can't jump to any conclusions…."

Stan leaned back, trying to let it all soak in, completely confused by what the nurse was saying. He jolted upright with a start when the bell rang for his next class and walked in a confused daze back into the hall.

XOXOXOXOXO

All day he had avoided Kyle, but none the less, anytime he thought of the red headed beauty, Stan's heart would pound harder in his chest. When the final bell rang, he walked absently through the school, not wanting to go home. He and Kyle were supposed to meet at his house but now… Stan didn't really want to.

"Oh, hey Stan!" called a familiar voice, and Stan looked up to see Butters waving his hand in the air as if to announce his presence. "What's up?"

"Hi Butters…" the black haired boy mumbled drearily. A thought suddenly entered his mind and before he knew it, his mouth was open and talking. "Butters… you're gay right?"

"Um…no?"

"So you would know about um… gay stuff, right?"

Butters paused a look of confusion and frustration shadowing his face. "…I'm not gay."

"What's that one club? I've heard it on the announcements before. You know, that G.A.A.," Stan started, completely ignoring the other boy. "No, G.A.S.; Gay Agenda… Sodomy, or something like that?"

"Oh, heheh," Butters chuckled swatting Stan's shoulder playfully. "You mean the G.S.A.? Gay Straight Alliance."

"Yeah! That one!" Stan brushed his tousled bangs from his eyes.

"Well, uh, me and Bradley were just about to go there. You wanna tag along?"

Stan raised an eyebrow. He looked to Butters' left and saw another boy that he didn't even realize was standing there. It must have been Bradley. Stan watched as the teenager shifted nervously back and forth on his feet and bit his fingernails. He had 

golden hair that shimmered in the pulsing lights of the high school and equally golden eyes. Bradley was constantly averting his gaze, avoiding eye contact at any cost.

"W-what, is he you're boyfriend?" Stan asked bluntly. Butters didn't seem to get annoyed, but he did heave out a sigh.

"Well, um, I'm not gay, so…." Stan looked down, his eyes mooned over with suspicion. The two blonde juniors were holding hands….

"Yeah, sure Butters. Whatever, let's just go."

"I am," Bradley whispered, his voice blocked slightly by his hand. But he was too late and too quiet as Stan brushed passed him without even giving a second glance.

Once they were at the meeting, Stan felt like an outsider. He sat in a hard plastic chair that was two sizes too small for him; like it was meant for an elementary student. While he sat, the other kids mingled and laughed with each other, leaving the new kid in the corner. Stan was surprised to find that they were almost all girls. They each took turns talking about their problems, their parents, and other stories. Almost like normal kids!

They went entirely around the room, and would have missed Stan if Butters hadn't spoken up. "Well, hey fellas! Bradley just wanted everybody to know that we have a new person joining our club. Stan."

"Um, thanks Butters?" Now that it was his turn… with all eyes set upon him… the heat of their stares upon his brow… he wasn't sure whether he wanted to talk or not. Stan heart lurched as he thought of the one thing he never wanted to think about again: Kyle.

Stan's aqua eyes glazed over in thought. "Um… I'm not a gay. And I can understand how you might not want me in your club…."

"Not at all!" interrupted a random girl. "This is the Gay _Straight_ Alliance, after all."

"I-" Stan started hesitantly, still trying to grasp the words zipping through his head at unimaginable speeds. "You know? I never really thought about homosexuals that much before. I always mistook them for people who were confused about their gender. That they wanted to… become the opposite sex. I didn't realize that they were normal people who just want to love who they want."

Stan paused to look around the room. "When I hear your stories and see you're faces… I see kids my own age who are willing to go through hardships together. But… I don't think I'm strong enough for that. I don't think I'm ready to face my own demons, let 

alone help other people with theirs. I understand that I'm weak… and that I still have a lot to learn."

A solemn silence wafted over them all as the words penetrated into their very souls. "Wow, Stan," Butters finally chimed in. "That was very mature!'

"Ha," the black haired child snickered, looking away with embarrassment. "You really think so? Kyle is usually the mature one."

As if on queue, the door squeaked open timidly and a hushed voice called in. "Stan?" it whispered. "Stan, you in here?"

Stan got up, recognizing Kyle's voice and smiled to the rest of them. "Gotta go now. Hope to see you guys some other time." As the teenager walked out of the room, a hand laid itself heavily on his shoulder and dragged him into the hall.

"Fuck, dude!" Kyle shrieked, his voice cracking a little. "What were you doing in there with all those fags, man? You could have been-" Kyle stopped mid sentence as he realized what he was about to say. That was a subject never to be discussed….

Fortunately, Stan's mind was on something else. "Did you just call them fags?" Stan growled, straightening himself to his full height.

"Well… yeah, but…" Kyle admitted, looking confused. "That's what they are... aren't they? You know, gay wads. But anyway, weren't we supposed to go over to your house and play video games or something?"

"We have homework tonight," Stan corrected, returning to his usual demeanor, slouching down and letting his shoulders roll back.

"Yeah, but we can always do it later! C'mon!" Kyle took Stan by his hand and pulled him outside into the warm sunlight. Stan's heart pounded again, but he couldn't help but smile. Something about holding his best friend's hand just seemed… right.


	2. Are You Scared?

I decided to put the second chapter in ASAP because I didn't leave much of a cliff hanger on either of these and this chapter is relatively short. I would still like people to read and review! I'm always glad to have peoples opinions on how to better my writing! Thanks again!

**See chapter one for Disclaimers; it will alwasy be the same...**

**Persevere**

**Chapter 2**

Stan laid down his controller with a soft thump and witnessed his character be blasted into smithereens. With a sigh, he clutched his chest and felt its heavy beats and closed his eyes in contemplation. Could it be Kyle causing these attacks? But why?

"Dude!" Kyle smiled triumphantly, pumping his arms in the air. "That's the second time I beat you! I never beat you!"

"Kyle?" Stan started, digging deeper into the vein of his thoughts. "We're best friends, right?"

"Of course," the other boy replied, starting to look worried. "What's the matter, Stan?" Kyle put one hand on his friend's shoulder and Stan's heart lurched painfully, causing him to take a deep breath.

"I've been thinking…."

"Ha, you don't do that often enough," Kyle laughed, withdrawing from Stan on the couch. Instead of the usual heavy beat, the dark haired teenager's heart felt like it sank further down his chest for every inch Kyle pulled back.

"Stop joking, dude," Stan pleaded, his voice still and serious. "I really mean it. I've been thinking ever since this afternoon."

Kyle looked away and coughed. "Does this… does this have t-to do with those fags from that meeting?"

"Why do you do that?" Stan inquired, angrily.

"Do what?"

Stan swung his legs up onto the couch and crawled toward Kyle, putting his face mere inches away from his friend's. "Call them fags when you know it hurts their feelings. You're supposed to be the mature one, Kyle. You should know better."

Kyle blushed in embarrassment, averting his gaze. "I didn't think it was that big of a deal-"

"Not that big of a deal?" Stan practically shouted. "Do you even know what a real faggot is? It's a bundle of sticks tied together to be used as fodder for fire. Fire that was used to burn witches, heretics, and homosexuals at the stake."

"I didn't know that," Kyle mumbled, obviously ashamed. "But, aren't you being too sensitive? I mean, why relate with them anyway?"

"Why should I be friends with you?" Stan asked. "You're a Jew. I mean, why relate with Jews anyway?"

"Dude," grumbled the red head. "That's not even fucking fair."

"But do you see what I mean?"

"I see that you're really starting to scare me!" They both became quite, the soft glow the television the only source of light. It pulsated and illuminated their eyes. Stan found himself getting lost in his friend's emerald eyes. They gleamed brightly and shimmered like gems.

Stan lowered his own eyes, his glance lingering on Kyle's supple lips. They looked so soft and pure. Untouched. For a second, Stan wondered what they felt like and leaned in closer.

"This is queer, right here." Stan blinked, snapped from his lustful thoughts. "Now you're _really_ scaring me."

"Yeah, well…." The teenager tried to regain his composure and backed up from the other boy. "I might as well, seeing as you can't scare me back."

"Oh yeah?" Kyle protested, thankfully forgetting all that happened… or might have happened.

"Fuck yeah!" Stan chortled, getting up from the couch and entering the kitchen. "You want something to drink?"

"Do you have Coke?" came the reply.

"No Coke, only Pepsi," Stan called back. "My mom's favorite."

"Nah, no thanks." Stan continued to work in the kitchen. He thought he'd do something nice for his friend since they were about to start their homework. He knew what a drag that would be. He searched the freezer and pulled out two candy bars from his personal stash. They always tasted better when frozen. His blue eyes fell on the vanilla ice cream that was suspended on a shelf, and an idea struck his fancy.

"Do you like strawberries? We've got a shitload, and I'm gonna making a sundae." He waited but there was no answer. "What about chocolate syrup?" No reply. "I'm gonna take that as a yes," Stan teased, raising his voice, thinking Kyle had gone to the bathroom.

Reentering the living room, Stan held up the two bowls, a spoon hanging from his mouth. "We've onry got rone spoon, so ve'll have to sher," he called out through his gritted teeth. Stan surveyed the area, but there was nobody there. He spat out the spoon and set down the sundaes, placing his hands on his hips. "Oh, ha ha. What are you gonna do now, jump out at me?"

Still no answer. It had been a good fifteen minutes and Stan knew that Kyle didn't have that kind of patience for a stupid prank. With a sigh, the raven haired teen plopped down onto the couch and started eating. "Enough, asshole, you're ice cream is gonna melt."

No answer. Not even the sound of footsteps coming or going. "Kyle?" This was getting serious. Stan looked around again… and chocked on a gasp. How long had the front door been open? It was so dark in the living room, he couldn't even tell until now. He rushed to the door and peered outside. No sign of his friend anywhere. "Kyle, are you still in the house?"

Nothing. "This isn't funny, dude!" Stan cried, hysteria creeping into his voice. Memories starting flooding back into Stan's mind and he breathed hard on the brink of hyperventilating. With a jolt, he sprang for the kitchen and drew the closest knife to him. He cautiously began to ascend the stairs, not daring to make more than a whisper. Someone was in the house….

When Stan finally got to his room, he pushed the door open slowly. His eyes grew wide as he stared into an open window, his curtains flapping in the night time breeze. It was the return of a nightmare… what if what happened to Stan also happened to Kyle? He would never be able to forgive himself!

"Boo!" shouted Kyle as he jumped from the bed in front of Stan. The taller boy staggered backwards with a blood curdling shriek. He jabbed the knife outward, nearly stabbing his friend in the gut. "Dude, it was a fucking joke!" Kyle growled, realizing how close he was to getting gouged.

Stan curled into a ball, panting with fearful gasps, tears streaming from his face. Kyle looked on in wonderment, staring at his deflated friend. Finally it clicked. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry, Stan. I totally forgot about… that."

"Forgot!" Stan howled. "You forgot? I will never be able to forget, Kyle! Do you even know what it's like?"

Kyle got down on his knees and hugged Stan with all his might. "God, Stan, I'm really sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Sometimes-" Stan began, clenching his jaw. "Sometimes I just wish that everyone knew what it was like. What it was like to have someone break into your room and… and t-take advantage of you! T-to climb through your window and r-r-rape you!"

"I swear to you," Kyle whispered softly in a calm voice, trying to sooth his distraught friend. "I will never do anything like that again. I don't know what I was thinking. I'm so sorry, Stan."

"I've hardly slept at all since that night," Stan whimpered. "I can't get the images out of my head. It's been two years, and I still can't forget it."

After a minute or two, Stan's breathing finally became normal. "C'mon," Kyle said, lifting his friend up. "Let's go downstairs. I'll stay here tonight. I'll protect you from anyone and anything. I'll always be by your side, Stan. Always…."


	3. A Sleep Over

Yay! I got the next chapter up reletivley quickly. I hope people are enjoying this, because I have a lot planned for it! It's going to be great! ...I hope. So, to make sure that it will turn out good, give me some feedback; tell me what you like, what you don't like. All that jazz, so I can improve and make the reading experience better for my audience. Thankly muchly!

**Disclaimer is the same as chapter one and two: I don't own anything pretty much. Especially South Park, haha. Also, this chapter has a little more 'soft core' boy on boy action... sorta. So if you don't like that 1. Why the hell are you looking it up anyway? and 2. Don't be flaming about it (haha, gay pun)**

**So, enjoy!**

**Persevere**

**Chapter Three**

Stan stretched himself over his bed with a yawn, listening to the shower run inside the bathroom just yards away. He ran his fingers through his wet hair and sighed, thinking about how he nearly killed his best friend by accident. However, the hot shower he had taken minutes ago seemed to cleanse him. Still, the boy couldn't help but roll over and glance toward his window, making absolutely sure it was locked.

Kyle was the one washing himself now while Stan waited patiently for him to finish. The dark haired teen sat up and swung his legs off the bed, nervously checking himself over; he was worried that he looked to ragged, even though all he was wearing was a white tank top and boxers.

Stan's eye listlessly drifted toward the door to his bathroom and absently stared at the rising steam that billowed in transparent plumes from the crack of the floor. Stan imagined Kyle humming softly as he brushed shampoo through the crimson shocks of hair. Trailing down his body with a firm bar of soap, his hand wiping timidly over the nape of his bellybutton.

Reaching lower, tracing his fingers over his silky skin. Down his smooth legs and then back up again, gingerly touching that special area. A blush running across his face as he let out a hushed moan so that his friend could not hear him. Grasping his dangling flesh that quickly filled with his rich blood, extending the organ. "Oh Stan," Kyle would whisper with a lustful gasp. "Stan, please, don't tease."

Stan swallowed hard, his eyes glazed over. "I love watching you twitch," he said. "Say my name again, Kyle."

"Stan! Oh Stan!"

"Kyle…."

"Stan! Can't you hear me?"

"I hear you, Kyle. I hear you loud and clear."

"…Then could you bring me a towel like I asked?" Stan blinked and straightened his back. He looked down at his throbbing flesh.

"Shit!" he cursed, trying his hardest to hide the blatantly obvious bulge in the thin fabric.

"No, seriously dude," Kyle called again, the water finally turning off. "There really isn't a towel in here and I need one." Stan got to his feet, but paused to readjust himself, swear words dotting his speech. He went to the hall closet and found another towel.

Stan knocked on the door to the bathroom. "Just place it on the sink, dude." The raven haired boy swallowed his heart again as it pounded mercilessly in his chest. He opened the door slowly and practically threw the towel into the room. But, as he moved back, his gaze lingered.

Stealing a glance, Stan looked into the foggy mirror, resting his eyes on the glorious sight of his friend's naked behind. With a jerk, he slammed the door shut and let go of his breath, instantly feeling ashamed for taking advantage of Kyle's ignorance. But his day dream had been so vivid! Why would he have a thought like that?

Kyle came from the bathroom, the newly acquired towel wrapped about his waist, and nearly smacked into Stan. He laughed it off however and they did a little dance, trying to get out of each other's way. Stan looked inside and saw a towel hanging on the rack.

"Hey, you fucking Jew!" he cried, turning back to Kyle. "There was a towel in there, I didn't have to get you one!"

"Yeah, but that one was the one you used," Kyle retorted, closing his eyes and pouting; his face growing a little red. "It was all over your… bits, you know?"

"Dude, grow up, you ass hole," Stan sniggered, placing his hands on his hips. Kyle's eyes drifted low but hastily looked away.

"Stan, just go masturbate already," he grumbled, walking toward the bed. "You've got a raging hard on."

The other teen went beat red with embarrassment. "B-but I…" Kyle gave him a suspicious look. "I- I… I d-don't masturbate, though…." Kyle raised a questioning eyebrow, but Stan only averted his gaze with humiliation.

"Oh my God!" Kyle breathed. "You're telling the truth! You really don't masturbate!"

Kyle plopped himself down on the bed with a wistful simper while Stan quickly lost his erection in embarrassment. "I only have one bed, dude," Stan informed, as if it wasn't obvious.

"Whatever, I can deal," Kyle sighed. "I owe you for my childish prank anyway. So I don't mind sleeping together."

Stan blushed again. He thought Kyle was going to offer to sleep on the floor, but this! This was queer… like _really_ queer! But for some reason, Stan didn't object. He slipped into the bed as well, pulling the covers over his and Kyle's legs.

He inched closer but stopped mid breath as he looked down on Kyle's bare chest. "A-aren't you at least going to wear a shirt?" Stan grimaced at his wavering voice, hoping his friend wouldn't notice.

"I'm wearing boxers, isn't that enough?" Kyle complained. "I usually sleep in the nude anyway, so you're lucky I'm even wearing those!"

Stan's heart raced with the thought of Kyle in his bed, stark naked… touching himself….

He quickly shook the thought from his head, feeling that familiar tingling below his torso. "Here, I have more shirts," Stan insisted. He pulled off his tank top and gestured for Kyle to take it. "I can just get another one."

"Now who needs to grow up, asshole?" Kyle scoffed, taking the shirt and tossing it across the room. "Grow some balls, dude."

"Hey, I've got balls!" Stan yelled, putting his face up to Kyle's. The red head merely grinned, his eyes mooning over.

"Yeah, I can feel that."

Stan's eyes went wide and his face flooded with blood. He pulled back, not realizing he had been _that_ close to Kyle. He breathed heavily, his own naked chest pumping up and down. Kyle clenched his jaw with worry.

"Stan, I can still hear your heart from here," he whispered. "Are you sure you don't have some kind of problem?"

"I have a huge problem," Stan mumbled lowly. Thankfully, though, Kyle didn't hear it.

"Just try to get some sleep tonight," Kyle pleaded. "I know it's still fresh in your mind, but… I'm here. And I won't let anything happen to you." And with that, Kyle turned on his side, almost instantly falling asleep.

Stan, however, was not so lucky. He tossed and turned for nearly three hours before he finally fell asleep.

He dreamed of his window being pushed open by an intruder, the hinges creaking eerily as he stepped inside. Stan sat up and screamed for Kyle to help as the 

stranger came closer. He hurriedly looked around the room for his friend. The red headed beauty was standing in the corner, his eyes narrow and his arms crossed like a jilted lover. And no matter how Stan screamed, Kyle would not come to his rescue.

The poor boy woke in a cold sweat. He saw the red glow of his alarm clock beaming the numbers 3:30. He had only been asleep for an hour….

Then he heard a low murmur, and it was then that Stan realized his arm had fallen asleep and become numb. Kyle, sometime during the night, had oriented himself into Stan's arms….

The teenager witnessed as Kyle nuzzled his nose deeply into Stan's chest and let out a satisfied breath. At first, Stan didn't know what to do. So… he didn't do anything. He just let him lie.

Gingerly, he placed his arms once again around the sleeping prince and brought him in tighter, lighting his fingers over Kyle's pale flesh. Darkness took him, and his eye lids became heavy. For the first time in two years, sleep truly washed over Stan. His last, tired words that escaped his lips were:

"Kyle… I… love you…."


	4. A Confession of Love

This next chapter is my absolute favorite that I've written to date! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I loved writting it. Please please please, read and review. I really like to have feedback.

**Disclaimer: I don't own any South Park or there characters nor any of the movies mention in this chapter. **

**Enjoy!**

**Persevere**

**Chapter Four**

Stan woke up to the sound of his mother's car starting. It puttered and spat through his drowsy ears as he blinked out the blinding sunlight. He took in a deep breath, taking in the morning air through his nostrils. Instantly, he knew something was missing as the scent wafted through his memory.

He looked down to his side and saw his bed's sheets flung over the mattress with no red head next to him. "Kyle," Stan whispered, furrowing his brow with frustration. He groggily sat up in bed, being sure to rub the 'sleepies' from his eyes. His feet padding softly against the carpet, Stan made his way down stairs.

With a start, the teenager realized that his mother left for work at noon. His eyes grew wide with this sudden epiphany as it was obvious that he was not only late for school, but now he had no ride there! Still too tired to fully register the severity of the situation, Stan continued to descend the stairs.

In the kitchen Stan grunted to acknowledge that Kyle was sitting at the dining table. His friend looked up from the newspaper he was reading and smiled in return. "It's noon," Stan yawned, trying to sound concerned, but failing miserably.

"I told your mom about last night," Kyle informed, neatly folding the paper in front of him, giving Stan his undivided attention. "She was worried about you, you know." Stan nodded, still sleepy, unable to form words at the moment. "She let you stay home from school today. Let you sleep in for once."

The black haired boy fumbled with his mop of hair, not caring that it looked like hell and walked toward the refrigerator. "You were asleep for a long time after I got up," Kyle simpered. "I'm glad."

"Well, thanks buddy," Stan grumbled dryly, drinking straight from the milk carton.

"You know what I mean," Kyle chastised, squinting his emerald eyes. "I know it's been a while since you actually had a good night's rest. It must be hard."

"The sad thing is," Stan began, sitting down across from his friend. "I'm actually a little used to it."

"You could at least put a shirt on," Kyle offered, scrunching up his face.

"You didn't have any objections last night."

"Yeah, but that was last night," Kyle chuckled. "Now when I see you when it's light out, you look a lot more…." Kyle paused and Stan lowered the milk carton from his lips, waiting for the rest of the sentence on baited breath. "Queer, haha!"

Stan's heart sank. Another opportunity for a compliment totally wasted. For some reason, Kyle seemed a lot less compassionate than he used to. "What is that, an insult now?" Stan asked, turning away his face in disappointment.

Kyle didn't speak for a while, playing nervously with the newspaper in front of him, seemingly understanding that he had made a wrong move. "Look," he started, avoiding the subject. "Today's Friday, anyway. Which means we don't have to worry about school for another two days. Let's enjoy it!"

The spirit inside Stan rekindled and brightened again. A whole day with Kyle and no parents or rules? That would be great! "Sure, just let me get dressed. We'll go out to eat or something."

"Sounds good," Kyle agreed, his grin spreading from ear to ear, his white teeth glinting. "Oh, speaking of, dude." He stood up and did a quick turn around. "I stole some of your clothes for today. You're fucking tall, you know that?"

"No, you're just short!" Stan joked back, going back upstairs, jumping up the steps three at a time. He tried to pick out his best clothes and clicked his tongue when he saw that Kyle had taken his favorite pair of jeans. The fact that Kyle was wearing his clothes suddenly dawned on the youth and he blushed a little.

That blush turned to terror when another idea struck him. What if Kyle had looked in his underwear drawer? Not only would that be totally embarrassing as well, but….

Stan ripped through his drawer, tossing aside socks and boxers until he found what he was looking for: his stash of porn magazines. He brushed through them, each one showing big chested girls and the like until he hit the bottom of the stack. Stan's only gay porn magazine.

The boy brought it into his chest as if it was evidence to a crime. He had gotten it on a whim, never really intending to like it. The unfortunate part was… that he kind of did. Hopefully Kyle hadn't seen it. But his paranoia wouldn't go away. He had to know for sure. Something sly… some clever excuse.

"Hey, Kye?" Stan called down the stairs, his voice quivering. "You weren't an asshole and stole any of my socks or boxers did you?"

"No, why would I, man?" came the reply, and Stan let out a long breath.

"Good, you better not have!" Stan sighed with relief again. But now it was all too clear that this wasn't safe in the cliché hiding spot anymore. However, Stan couldn't think of anyplace to put it that he wouldn't be constantly fretting where it was. He had to know where the magazine was at all times.

The only logical idea would be on his person at all times. The more Stan thought of it, the more sense it made. If it was always with him, he would know where it was, and no one would find it by accident, since he would always have it. Stan nodded to himself, brushing the raven colored bangs from his eyes.

He quickly finished dressing, nearly forgetting his wallet on his bed side stand. He slipped the magazine into his backpack and flipped it over his shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the thought of his scheme. It would work, Stan was sure.

"What's the book bag for?" Kyle asked, disgust lacing his words. Stan had anticipated this question and removed some plastic bags from a kitchen drawer along with a loaf of bread.

"I thought instead of going out to eat, we could go see that new Batman movie," Stan explained, knowing full well that Kyle was dying to see The Dark Knight more than anyone. He would be so excited that the rest of Stan's plan would undoubtedly go unnoticed. "And who wants to waste money on snacks, when we can make our own and eat them there."

Stan looked up to see his friend's face alight with astonishment. He could practically see the wheels in his head stop turning with the idea of the movie. The fact that Stan was pretty sure bringing your own food into a movie theater was illegal didn't faze Kyle in the least.

"That would be so awesome!" Kyle cried out, pumping his arms in the air. "Skipping school to see the best movie of the year? I couldn't come up with a better idea myself!"

Stan's face went crimson as he grinned. It was a good plan. But he felt a little ashamed that he hadn't thought about it earlier… before his paranoia set in. But at least this was an easy way to keep the contraband hidden. Under piles of food in a backpack that would never leave Stan's shoulder.

The walk to the movie theater was full of laughter and joking. Chuckling at the poor saps who were in school today. Finally some ammo for Kyle to get back at Cartman with. The fat ass was first in line on the opening night of the movie and not a minute went by that he didn't rub it in Kyle's face.

Stan always had felt protective of Kyle; and he never knew why until last night. It was because he was in love with his best friend. This was a huge secret that Stan just couldn't keep in. He and Kyle had been super best friends since… forever! They never kept secrets from each other.

But as Stan wiped his black bangs away from his face and looked toward his red haired hopeful, he couldn't help but think that this was too big for their friendship. It might tear them apart. It's just that… Stan had always thought of Kyle as being perfect. But these last few weeks, the boy had witnessed emotions and traits that Kyle never had before. Even though they had been friends for such a long time, there were still things about each other they didn't anticipate.

Stan couldn't be like that. He couldn't change into the person Kyle was already on the brink of turning into. Maybe… just maybe if Stan was honest, Kyle would realize what has been happening to him. And who knows, maybe fantasies really do come true and Kyle might actually… he might actually….

"Stan!" Kyle shouted, finally breaching his friend's clouded eyes. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"It's just fascinating," Stan whispered, stopping mid stride, his eyes still glazed over, looking his friend up and down. Kyle ceased walking a few paces after him and half turned to face Stan. He saw Stan's wavering eyes and blushed a little.

"What is it?" he asked nervously. "Is there… is there something wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong about you," Stan smiled. Kyle's eyes widened and Stan broke from his trance. "I was just thinking about how long we've been friends and yet… and yet we still don't know everything about each other."

"Pfft! That's a fucking lie, dude," Kyle retorted, placing his hands on his hips. "I know that you're blood type A, you're favorite food is ice cream cake, fatty. And that you're secretly afraid your grandfather might pass away some day soon, because no matter how much you deny it, you really do love him."

"Okay, well," Stan stuttered, scratching his head. "That's still not everything!"

"Yeah, whatever dude," Kyle snickered, turning back around. "We're gonna be late for the movie. So let's get going!"

Paying for their tickets, the two friends made straight for the theater, not wanting to waste time in getting good seats. The movie started with a bang, and Stan had to hold Kyle down from how much he was bouncing up and down with anticipation.

The movie was great, probably the best all year, but Stan couldn't concentrate fully on it. Kyle's presence was intoxicating and he couldn't focus with his desire so close beside him. Stan remembered all those romance novels where the boy would rest his hand on the girl's, pretending to want to put it on the armrest.

Stan felt his palms become sweaty as he slowly stretched his arm out; Kyle's hand awaiting him on the armrest. Tentatively, he place his hand down, his eyes twitching back and forth from the film to the hand. Finally, he felt Kyle's warm fingers beneath his palm and Stan's face blossomed with a fiery blush.

There was a moment of static between them, and time stood still. Stan could hear everything but the movie, he senses dull to everything but the heat of Kyle's hand and pounding of his own heart. Stan felt the air enter his lungs and exit in one solid breath that seemed to last hours. And then…

Kyle pulled away. "Oh, sorry dude," he whispered, his eyes still transfixed on the movie. Stan expected his heart to stop beating right then and there, but then he realized that this was the completely wrong time. Of course, even if Kyle had feelings for Stan, they would be drowned out by the action packed film.

For Stan, the movie couldn't be any longer. "Two and a half hours!" he marveled. "It seemed like five!"

"Yeah, I know!" Kyle jumped, a grin dancing lightly over his face. "I didn't want it to end! Hey!" Kyle grabbed Stan by the shoulders like a giddy child. "Let's go to my house! Nobody's home! We could like… totally do stuff!"

Stan felt his cheeks flare up as he was rendered speechless. "S-sure…" he eventually said. The walk from the movie theater to Kyle's house was a lot shorter, especially with Stan laughing at Kyle's absolutely horrible imitation of the Joker.

"Can you believe that was the same guy in Broke Back Mountain?" Kyle panted. He couldn't breathe fast enough.

"D-did you see that movie?" Stan asked timidly.

"No way, but I just might," Kyle replied honestly. "It doesn't matter if it's a fag movie. If he was just as good in that movie as he was in this one, it won't matter at all!" Kyle jumped up the steps to his house and threw open the door. But Stan just couldn't take it anymore.

"Kye!" He shouted, placing his hand on his friend's shoulder to stop him from moving. Instantly Kyle calmed down, hearing Stan's frightened tone. "We're… super best friends, right?"

"Yeah," Kyle replied, his voice swimming in confusion. "Always, Stan."

"I have something to tell you," Stan started, having to swallow his heart as it raced even faster. He closed the front door behind him, dropping the backpack from his shoulder and took a deep breath.

"Kyle… I-I think…" the words just wouldn't come out of his mouth. "I t-think I'm might b-be… no, I'm pretty s-sure I… I am. I think I-I'm gay." The light in Kyle's eyes faded and he took a shocked step backwards, his mouth gaping open slightly. "And w-what's more… I think I'm gay for y-you, Kyle."

The red headed teenager put his hands in his pockets and furrowed his brow, waiting for Stan to continue. "These chest pains I've been having," Stan explained slowly. "They're because every time I'm near you… my heart beats faster. Because I'm in love with you. And I guess I've always been in love with you. I just didn't really see it until just recently. And honestly… I couldn't think of any other person to be in love with. You've always just been so perfect. You're so beautiful and perfect and pure… and I just love you."

Stan stammered to a stop and took in a few more breaths, his heart feeling like it would rip from his rib cage. Kyle looked to the floor and nodded, a pensive look shadowing his face. "Wow, Stan, I mean…." Kyle brought his eyes up to his friend's. "Thanks. That's really flattering, dude."

Stan's heart stopped. That wasn't the 'I love you too' he was looking for. "That's cool, dude," Kyle continued. "I don't… I don't care if you're gay. You definitely blind sighted me, and thanks for telling me that you love me but… I'm not gay. I'm straight, Stan."

"B-but," Stan stuttered, his emotions draining from his body. He had no idea what to think or what to do. "B-but, dude!" Suddenly, the dark haired boy became angry. Kyle had to be lying! It just couldn't end this way! "You asshole, you _have_ to be gay! I mean, you fucking like baking! And we're always hanging out together. And last night, we slept in the same bed!"

"Look who's the mature one now!" Kyle shouted back. "Putting all these fag stereotypes on me! Take a look at yourself! You fucking play sports and went out with girls for years! You're personality is the exact opposite of a gay stereotype and yet you're the queer here!"

"Don't call me that!" Stan cried, jabbing his finger into Kyle's chest. "Don't you dare degrade me like that by calling me names! I fucking poured my heart out to you and you destroyed me!"

"I'm not saying I'm not happy you were honest with me!" Kyle growled, sneering at Stan. "I am, but that doesn't mean you and I are suddenly gonna be fuck buddies!"

"Is sex all that defines a gay relationship?" Stan yelled, feeling tears burning behind his eyes. "What's happened to you? You used to be so understanding!"

"And I used to think you were straight!" Kyle shot back. "And now look! You're a fucking faggot!"

Stan's pupils dilated and his mouth dropped open. He just couldn't believe what he was hearing. He backed up to the door again and fumbled with the door knob behind his back. "I can't be here," he whispered, unable to find his voice. "I can't do this… I can't…."

The door finally gave in swinging open and Stan rushed outside and down the street leaving a trail of heated tear drops in his wake.


	5. Getting Fixed?

The plot thickens!

Remember to tell me what you think of the new chapters. I always love to hear from you guys, and it actually makes me want to write more if I know people are reading it.

**Disclaimer: You should know by now that if I owed South Park or any of their characters... I would not have to put a disclaimer at the beginning of every chapter... how's that for logic?**

**Enjoy!**

**Persevere**

Chapter Five

"Do you know why you're here, Stanley?" the councilor asked as the two of them walked down the carpeted halls of the main building. He was a squat man, even shorter than Stan himself. The teenager felt even more lanky walking next to him, and it made him feel disappointed with his thin and not so defined body.

"It's because I'm gay?" Stan answered, not really a question more like a statement he didn't really want to admit.

"We prefer to use the term bi-curious," the instructor corrected with a smile that seemed cold and empty. More of a knowing smirk. "You see, no one is really 'gay.'" The man put his fingers up and made air quotes and chuckled as if the very word itself was a joke. "They're just sexual perverts and deviants who have strayed from the light of God and are bound for the fiery abyssal of hell if they aren't corrected… and pay an entry fee of 150 dollars to our camp."

The terms 'pervert' and 'deviant' made Stan wince. He wasn't really a religious person, but this camp promised to help him change his sexual orientation. And that was something Stan needed. He didn't really fear Hell; he had done things in his childhood that pretty much guaranteed his place in Satan's pit. He was doing this for Kyle.

The two friends hadn't spoken for at least two weeks. In all honesty, Stan hadn't been able to keep count, the days going by in a blur as he wandered aimlessly through life. He was going to this camp for the sole reason of telling Kyle that he wasn't gay anymore and that they could be friends again.

"I've heard that you've had a friend of yours join us before," the councilor continued as they made their way past other boys, all of whom seemed nervous and depressed. "His name was Bradley, do you know him?"

Stan had to think for a second. He was sure the man would have asked about Butters. Everyone knew that he had been to this camp before. Finally, he remembered the other golden haired boy who had been with Butters. Now that he thought about it, it was obvious. Bradley had fidgeted and avoided eye contact just like every single one of these other boys. If he hadn't gotten that habit from this place, then Stan didn't know where from!

"Yeah, I've seen him around," Stan admitted after a second.

"Oh, good!" the councilor exclaimed. "And he's totally cured, correct?"

"Um, no," Stan informed, bluntly. "When we first met, he admitted to me that he was still gay. It was on our way to a Gay Straight Alliance meeting."

The grin slowly melted from the man's face and was replaced with an aggravated frown. "He must not have stuck with our regiment!" he growled, more to reassure himself than Stan. The teenager honestly couldn't care less. "He's back on the path of depravity…."

"What about Butters?" the raven haired boy asked. "He went here, too."

"No, we've never had a Butters here before."

Stan stopped mid stride, causing the councilor to look back on him with confusion. "That has to be a lie," the boy mumbled. "He was here for a while, everyone at school knows it."

"Well, ahem," the older man coughed into his hand and looked away. "We… may have had him here but… he was unwilling to change, so we dismissed him. Satan's hold was too strong on him. We've since erased him from our archives."

"So, if you're methods don't work, you either blame the person for not following your regiment or just pretend they never came here in the first place?"

The councilor looked back and forth, his mouth agape as if trying to think of an answer that wouldn't totally destroy his reputation. Stan's eyes mooned over with annoyance as he realized he wasn't going to get an answer. So it didn't surprise him at all when the man replied: "Over here… we have the cafeteria. That's where all the meals will be served."

"Uh-huh," Stan murmured, understanding it was pointless to argue.

"Oh, I forgot to mention about our policy here," the councilor started, coming up to room number 69. Stan sighed and placed his hands on his hips. Couldn't they have picked a different room to put him in? This was just embarrassing.

"At New Grace, we have a system called 'Accountabili-buddies.'" Stan merely rolled his eyes, seriously regretting his decision to self admit himself to the camp. "Let's meet your Accountabili-buddy: Vincent. He's been with us for quite a while, and is well on his way to recovery." With a swing of the door, Stan looked inside and saw a brown haired boy, just a little shorter than himself sitting under his covers in a bunk bed.

Vincent looked up with his gleaming hazel eyes. "Shit!" he gasped when he saw the two new visitors. He pulled his right hand from underneath the blanket and pulled the sheets further over him.

"Vincent, this is Stanley," the councilor introduced, seemingly oblivious to what the boy was actually doing. But Stan was savvier than that and let out a light snicker. "And remember, Vincent, swearing is against the rules. It makes you gay if you swear too much, just like having long hair and piercings will make you gay. I'll leave you two alone to get acquainted." The councilor turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Vincent took a moment to fumble around underneath the covers before standing up; slapping on a confident smile, even though his blushing cheeks betrayed him. "Hi, Stanley," he confronted cheerfully, extending his hand to shake.

Stan looked at the hand, his lips creased into a grim frown. The brown haired teenager slowly pulled his palm back and blushed again. "Oh, right," he mumbled, looking away.

"I'm not as dumb as these guys," Stan explained, doing his best to keep his voice icy.

"Honestly, dude?" Vincent laughed. "That's not saying much. These people are fucking idiots!" Stan's lips twitched, almost forming a smile. "Oh no!" Vincent cried in mock horror. "I broke that perfectly good skulking look you plastered over your face! You'll have to get that fixed."

Stan couldn't hold it back anymore and burst into a brief guffaw. "So what are you in here for?" he finally asked, wanting to know more about this kid. He reminded him a lot of-

"I'm trying to find a boyfriend," Vincent answered, vaulting himself onto the top bunk of the stacked beds, leaving Stan awkwardly standing in the middle of the floor. "I've had about four roommates in the month I've been here. Congrats, dude, you're the fifth." Vincent cleared his throat and leaned lazily against the wall. "The reason I've had so many roommates is because each one of them keeps getting deported back to where they came from! It seems I'm too much…" Vincent ran his hand tentatively down his torso before laying it on his thigh. "Temptation… for them."

Stan swallowed dryly. "But, the guy said you were well on your way to recovery."

Vincent elegantly jumped from the top bunk and went down onto his knees. "Oh God!" he cried, folding his hands as if praying. "How could you do this to me? All I want is your love. I… I don't want to be this way! Please Lord, I humble myself before thee! 

Cure me of my perverse lifestyle." Stan stepped backward in shock as he saw actual tears begin to form on the edge of Vincent's eyes.

"I'm an actor, dude," the brunette spat, his demeanor completely changing from seconds before. "Fooling people is what I do best." He silently sat down to his original position on the bottom of the bunk bed. "Just tell 'em what they want to hear and you'll be out of here in no time."

"B-but, I want to be here," Stan whispered. Vincent's eyes widened as he leaned in closer again. "I… I want to be straight. I admitted my self here on purpose. I want them to cure me."

"Dude," Vincent began, at a loss for words. "No one ever comes here by choice. They're always forced by their parents or preacher or something…."

"You weren't!" Stan shot back, pursing his lips and pouting.

Vincent gawked, eventually breaking into a loud laugh. "Touché, Stanley."

"Please, call me Stan, I prefer it."

"Okay!" Vincent called, seating himself on the bed, crossing his legs. "From this day forth, Stan, you and I are rivals."

"What?" Stan asked, feeling his face get hot as it began to flare up.

"You try to get cured," Vincent smirked, revealing his white teeth almost evilly. "And while you do that, I'll try to get you to realize that you won't be able to change, and that you're perfect the way you are."

"Good luck," Stan scoffed. "I've been known to be very stubborn." The raven haired teenager turned his back on the other boy, trying to hide his crimson face. "You…" he started, a sudden thought pricking his mind. "You don't happen to be Jewish, do you?"

"Nah, I'm Lutheran," Vincent replied shortly, running a hand through his soft brown hair.

"Okay, just- just asking…." Stan threw off the jacket he was wearing and climbed the ladder to the top of the bunk bed. A hand swiftly lashed out and grabbed him by the ankle before he could make it all the way. He glared down to a very disgruntled looking brunette.

"Hey!" Vincent shouted. "Rule number one!" he pulled Stan down to his level; suddenly he appeared a lot taller than before when he stared into Stan's eyes. "I… am always… on top!"

Stan blushed even deeper and chocked down a pant.

"Besides, you have to go to orientation," Vincent reported with a deft look, practically shoving Stan out the door and into the hall. "Don't forget, you robbed me of my climax, so you owe me one!"

"Where do I go?" Stan asked, spinning around trying to gain his bearings.

Before he closed the door, Vincent called back "Just go to the cafeteria!" He then slammed the door shut and locked it.

The cafeteria was surprisingly full with new boys, chattering nervously away. Stan had been late, so he timidly found a seat in the very back and compulsively tapped his foot. His confrontation with his new Accountabili-buddy had left him strangely… invigorated!

As he eyes scanned the area, Stan had to let out hushed gasp. He slowly rose to his feet trying to get a better look, as he just couldn't believe what he pupils were screaming at him. He recognized him… how could he forget those eyes? That fiery red hair?

As if to confirm his suspicion, a sudden throb in his chest caused Stan to clutch at his heart. "It couldn't be…." he breathed with astonishment.

"Kyle?"


	6. A Rumor

It's a long one, but I thinks that's a good thing! I hope this is living up to people's expectations. If not, please tell me what you think. I'm not at all afraid of honesty!

Lots of angst in this one, whew...

**Psst... I have a secret about the Disclaimer... but you can't tell anybody, I'm super serious! The secret is... I don't own anything that has to do with South Park. Not many people know this, but it's true...**

**Persevere **

Chapter Six

Stan's heart pounded heavily in his chest, threatening to explode through his rib cage. He could feel the blood pumping in his veins, surging like a torrent and making him dizzy. But he didn't need the flood of liquid in his body to do that. His brain just stopped working as it tried to desperately wrap around the scene he was witnessing.

The stout councilor from before had his hand on the shoulder of a young boy with short red hair and dazzling green eyes. The older man was talking cheerfully, that same cold grin spread across his face that he had when he was talking with Stan. But the other boy looked less than interested. In fact, he looked down right annoyed.

Stan twitched in his seat, forgetting how to breathe as all the air rushed out of his lungs. His pupils dilated and he nearly fainted. One word came across his lips:

"Kyle…."

There was no mistaking it. Kyle was here at New Grace. Stan could feel his brain practically implode as it raced with confusion. Before he knew what he was doing, Stan was on his feet and walking absently toward his ex-friend.

When he blinked, Stan suddenly came to; he had mindlessly walked around the entire cafeteria until he was at the front of the room, mere feet from Kyle's turned back. He took a moment to assess the situation, but his thoughts just weren't functioning. Why would Kyle be here?

The only thing Stan could think of was that Kyle was here for the same reason he himself was. Kyle had lied to Stan, he _was_ gay after all! And now he had self admitted himself to the camp to try to cure himself and try to become friends again!

Stan smiled to himself. That had to be it! There was no other explanation! Stan reached out with his hand and placed it on Kyle's back, turning him around vigorously. "Kyle!" he shouted joyously.

The other boy whirled around, and Stan saw that it was Kyle all right. The red head's already grim face grew into an even dark visage, his lips curling into a growl. His green eyes shaded over and his face contorted into a look of pure hate.

Kyle's clenched fist landed directly onto Stan's nose, and the boy could have sworn he heard it break.

"You fucking asshole!" Kyle screamed at the top of his lungs, and immediately the entire cafeteria was silent. Stan had staggered backwards, clutching his face until he lost his balance and fell on the ground into a jumble of chairs. "You're a fucking bastard, you god damn faggot!"

Kyle had started off toward Stan, raising his fists again and would have pounced on the defenseless and awestruck teenager if staff members had weaseled out of the woodwork and grabbed the rampaging boy by the arms.

"K-kyle… w-what-?" Stan started, but just couldn't form words.

"You just had to fucking storm away, didn't you?" Kyle cried, struggling against the camp's staff members, trying to rip away at Stan. "You couldn't even pick up your fucking bag first?! You just had to leave it at my house, didn't you, bastard?!"

Stan's thoughts raced, working their hardest to figure out just what Kyle was talking about. The last time they had spoken to each other was when Stan had admitted his love for Kyle. Kyle didn't take it well at all and Stan ran away crying. But before that… hadn't he… hadn't he left his bag on the ground? What was in it that could be so-

"Oh, God," Stan mumbled and his eyes grew wide with the realization. "Kyle, I never meant to…."

"My parents found that fucking bag of yours!" Kyle informed, still shouting. The rest of the boys in the room just looked on with bewilderment as the scene played out. "They found the magazine! And they thought it was _mine_!"

"Kyle, I'm so sorry," Stan pleaded, attempting to stand up. But his legs failed him and collapsed again, feeling the ever so familiar burning sensations build up behind his eyes. He didn't even have time to consider that his nose was bleeding profusely.

"They threatened to disown me, Stan!" Kyle continued, finally calming down enough for the staff members to release him. He wiped his eyes and breathed rapidly as he looked down on his distraught friend. "My parents actually threatened to kick me out of the house if I was gay. I loved them so much, never did anything wrong, I was the perfect son, and now they're going to kick me out! I keep telling them I'm not gay, but they just don't believe me!"

"Kyle I… I'm so sorry." Stan finally managed to stand up, unable to manage anything else to say. He joined Kyle in his sobs and reached out to embrace his friend.

"Don't touch me!" Kyle shrieked becoming angry again. He batted Stan's hands away and backed up, tears streaming from his face. "This is all your fault! If you hadn't 

left that stupid bag at my house, my parents never would have known! They never would have found out… it! They never would have found that stupid magazine!"

"Kyle, I seriously never meant any of this to happen," Stan tried to persuade, but the look on Kyle's face, the dark eyes, the falling tears… they told him that it was useless.

"I'm not an idiot, Stan," Kyle murmured, rage burning in the pit of his stomach. "I know about your secret plan. You thought it wasn't obvious but it is!"

"What are you talking about?" Stan asked, his voice just a hollow whisper.

"'Sometimes I wish everybody knew what it was like,'" Kyle quoted, pursing his lips in disgust. "You're just traumatized by what happened to you two years ago. I was by your side the entire time, and all the while you could only think of how to punish me. You were jealous of how my life was so much better than yours, so you wanted to bring me down to your level. Rape me, just like you were raped! It's totally obvious now!"

"W-what? I n-never-"

"No!" Kyle shouted, swiping his hand through the air in fury. "Shut up! Just shut up, Stan! I don't want to hear any of your excuses! I know the truth now, and it makes me sick! Taking out your angst and trauma on other people… on _me_! I was your friend for so long, and now you do this? First you try to rape me and when that didn't work, you ruin my life with a planted magazine!"

Kyle's voice grew grave and low, his eyes narrowing, and a spark lighted within his soul. "I'm sick of you. I'm sick of your perverted face, you abomination." Stan heart shattered at the word abomination. All he could do was stand there and let Kyle's hate wash over him. "I'm not your friend any more. I don't think I ever was your friend. And know this, Stan." Kyle drew closer and towered darkly over the other boy.

"If you ever come near me again. If I ever see your face or hear your voice ever again… I will kill you. You ruined my life almost beyond repair. And if you try to weasel your way back into it, I will end you. I'm sure even an abomination like yourself can understand those words. You're dead to me Stan… don't force me to make it literal."

Stan shuddered and swallowed dryly, his tears dropping like flawed pearls and splattering onto the tile floor below. He crumpled and fell to knees without a word, watching as Kyle turned his back and walked away. Stan's tears flooded with his own blood on the ground in a grotesque mixture of sorrow and hate.

Finally a camp councilor approached him and got Stan to his feet. "Come on," he coaxed softly, realizing the severity of the situation. "We have to get you to the nurse."

XOXOXOXO

Stan burst into his room, instantly finding Vincent and grabbing him by the throat. Stan had half an hour to stew in his misery and came to the conclusion that his roommate was the only one who would tell Kyle lies like that. Vincent wanted Stan, that was obvious… but this was going too far.

"Why did you tell Kyle those things?" Stan hissed, raising the shocked brunette to his feet.

"Who's Kyle?" Vincent choked out, laying his hands desperately onto Stan's arms trying to get him off.

"The boy I'm in love with!" Stan shouted, throttling the hapless teenager. "You lied to him to make him hate me! You spread rumors and destroyed our friendship!" Vincent took a breath and kneed his attacker in the crotch. Stan doubled over as he collapsed onto the floor in pain for the second time today.

"I don't know any fucking Kyle," Vincent spat, his voice hoarse. "Don't make me your scapegoat!" Stan's head thudded on the wood of the bunk bed as he leaned defeated into it with a grimace. Vincent sighed and helped Stan get up, setting him gently onto the bed. "But if he's made you act this way, then you really must love him. Tell me what happened."

As Stan explained the whole ordeal, Vincent listened with eager ears and empathized with him completely. "So you didn't spread those rumors?" Stan asked, rubbing his nose gingerly. Thankfully it wasn't broken, but it still hurt.

Vincent's eyes glazed over and he sat down next to Stan on the bed, staring into nothingness. "My dad is gay, too," he explained bluntly. "When he came out… it didn't totally destroy our family. My parents got divorced, but that was the worst of it. I felt empowered by my father's honesty. Just a week after he came out, I did too."

Stan listened in awe as Vincent opened himself up to the other teen. "Then… everything went down hill. People started talking. They thought that… that my dad and I… did things. My peers distanced themselves from me. Even the people who were my friends, people who accepted me for my homosexuality turned away from me. They said that they didn't mind me being gay, but having an incestuous relationship was something they could never forgive me for."

"I tried!" Vincent cried, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. "I tried to tell them that it was just a lie. That I never did anything like that with my dad! But no matter what I said they just… they just wouldn't believe me. I came here because I wanted a boyfriend. That's the truth. But what's more is: I came here to find a boyfriend because 

not even the gay kids at my school will go out with me. Because I'm disgusting and had sex with my fag father. People stopped sitting next to me at lunch! I have no friends there anymore."

"I'm an actor, Stan," Vincent continued. "I live for the stage. But once the principal got word of that horrid lie, he kicked me out of Theater. He said that my lifestyle was too controversial to be supported by a public school's club." Vincent lifted his head and clenched his teeth. "They stole the lead from me, Stan! They kicked the lead out of the play and gave it to some wretch who couldn't even read the lines right! My soul died that day. Everything I live for just… died."

Vincent paused and regained his composure. "I know what it's like to be the subject of someone's dirty rumor. I would never wish that fate on anybody. I would never spread a rumor about you, Stan. Not even if my life depended on it."

"Very touching," came a voice from the doorway. A dark figure entered the room and clapped its hands in mock applause. "You two pussies get together well." The stranger stepped into the light and Stan gasped.

"Cartman," he growled, standing up with a start.

"Yes, it's me," the chubby high schooler admitted with grin. "And by the look on your face, it seems to me that you're working out my little scheme in that small head of yours. You see, it was I who paid a visit to Kyle's room this morning."

"You bastard!" Stan grumbled.

"Who's that fat asshole?" Vincent asked, raising an eyebrow in confusion, but he went unheard as Stan continued.

"Why would you do such a thing?"

"Because, Stan," Cartman hissed. "I can't have you sneaking into my territory! One thing you must learn is that Kyle. Is. Mine! No one is allowed to love him but me. I can't have you stealing him from me."

"But, dude!" Stan cried in disbelief. "Kyle is fucking straight! He's told me so himself!"

"That doesn't matter!" Cartman shouted, stomping his foot like a child. "If I can't have him then nobody can! I'll make sure he lives alone just like he's forced me to live alone!" Cartman cleared his throat and re-straightened the tie on his business suit. "Perhaps one day you will understand where I'm coming from, Stan. I leave you now. Good luck on your pointless attempts to turn straight. Everybody knows that never works."

"Then what would you have me do?" Stan grumbled, seeing the futility of it all. "I've ruined my reputation at school for coming out. Kyle will never be my friend ever again. And now you say I can't become straight. There's nothing I can do!"

"There's still one thing I can think of," Cartman suggested, turning his back on Stan and glaring menacingly over his shoulder. And with that, the teenager silently left into the hallway.

Stan's heart was now totally crushed. His mind was lost in an eternal downward spiral as his life slipped through his frantic fingers. Vincent looked closely into Stan's eyes and gasped sharply.

"Don't," he said simply, his voice taking on a frightened tone. "I've seen that look before. Too many times did I see those eyes when I gazed into a mirror. I know what you're thinking, and it's not the way out, Stan."

"Oh, good, so this is Stanley's room?" The two boys looked up as another visitor entered into their room. "Stanley? Stanley Marsh? My how you've grown. Do you remember me? It's Father Maxi."

"What do you want?" Stan asked, lowering his eyes to the floor.

"There's a man who sent me to find you. A Mr. Roberts. Jacob Roberts."

"I don't know anybody by that name," Stan informed in a low monotone. "Goodbye." He went to close the door, but Father Maxi stuck his foot out and caught it before it shut.

"He wanted me to ask you if the date January 11th meant anything to you."

Stan stopped, his body going rigid. He slowly lifted his head to the priest; his pupil's small and shivering. "D-did you say January? January 11th, 2006?"


	7. The End?

Please read and review. See disclaimer from other chapters if you must. Brace yourself, cause here it comes.

**Persevere**

Chapter Seven

Stan glared out among the drones of people meandering pointlessly through the halls of the hospital. Many of them with dumbfounded looks plastered across their faces; as if they had no idea how to deal with the grief they were facing or the illness that beckoned them toward the dark. Stan thought it was sickening.

People were fragile things, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually as well. It was so easy to find any random person you see on the street and just crush them. Destroy their hope for humanity. Stan scanned the area and saw a young girl in a wheel chair looking defeated, one foot in the grave.

The raven haired boy sneered with disgust, thinking about how easy it would be to just walk over their and to tell her it was over. That she was going to die and nobody would miss her. That her life had accomplished nothing. That she probably deserved the death that was staring her in the face.

Stan didn't move. He sighed and slunk further down into his seat in shame. How could he think those things? He didn't even know that girl. But soon the fire raged in him again. Humans were frail. He himself was living proof of that fact.

Man kind is nothing but a vain race to the finish line. Stepping on top of the weak to get where you wanted to go. A marathon on hate and selfishness. Deep down, no one was in actuality good. Deep down… people were monsters, concerned only for their own well being.

Did Kyle care that he had decimated everything Stan had lived for? Did Kyle care that he wanted to change so they could still be friends? Did Kyle give a shit that Stan couldn't live without him? No! All he could think about was his own problems with his own family. Never once did it cross that bastard's mind that maybe… just maybe… Stan was suffering just as much as he was. If not more!

"Stanley?" called Father Maxi's voice, breaking the depressed boy from his trance. "Stanley, are you ready? I can understand if you want to wait a little longer. I just need to remind you of his condition though. You may not get another chance, I'm afraid."

Stan swallowed and stood up. Without a word, he traversed the tile roadway under the pulsating lights above as they wined in protest. He bit his lip nervously as the two of them reached the hospital room 113.

The teenager stopped, his hand hovering over the door knob, quaking with anticipation. Could he do this? Could he be blamed if he decided to back out just now? Should he wait longer after all? No, he had to do this now, while his resolve was strong.

Stan took a deep breath and turned the knob, opening the door. He stepped through, and the scent of cheap hospital food and stale medication wafted over him. He winced as the smells over powered him, but none the less trudged forward. "Remember, Stanley," Father Maxi added as the boy stepped through. "Forgiveness is part of the Catholic faith." After that, he timidly shut the door with a soft click, leaving the two strangers alone.

A muffled cough told Stan that the other person was aware of his presence. Stan sucked in another draft of air as he studied the man dying of pancreatic cancer in front of him. His eyes were dark and sunken in his face. He was thin and growing bald, his skinny arms attached to IVs and monitoring machines. It was so hard to believe that this was the same man who had raped Stan so many years ago.

"Thank you for coming," Jacob Roberts rasped slowly, trying unconvincingly to smile. "I don't know how to do this…." He paused and looked away as if trying to find the words floating around him.

"I'm so sorry," he said at last, his voice quivering. "Every day I think about what I did."

Stan blinked, trying to stay calm. He too had no idea what to say. It was painful being in the same room as him again. Memories of that dismal night flooded back to him and it physically hurt him to think about it. "Did you…" he started, trying to remember what he had rehearsed asking. "Did you live near me? Did I know you from somewhere? I mean… why me?"

"I don't know…." Jacob cried, his voice hoarse, as if it was difficult to even open his mouth. "I've never done anything like that before, I swear! And I never did again." Stan narrowed his eyes in disgust. Was that supposed to comfort him? "The next morning when I woke up… I hoped it was a dream… or a nightmare rather. But, I saw the scratch marks." He lifted his arms up weakly as if he could still see the scars over them.

Stan had to look away. It was more then he could bear. This was turning out to be far more difficult than he could have imagined. And it didn't help that Kyle had rejected him so forcefully just the other day. His eyes eventually laid themselves on a picture in a frame. It showed a man, a woman, and two kids; one boy and one girl. They were smiling happily in spite of the hate flooding the room.

"Is that your family?" Stan finally asked, focusing on the photo to keep himself from looking at the man.

All Jacob could do was nod in reply, disappointment and shame welling up in his eyes.

"Did they know?" mumbled the teenager, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself. It was a defense mechanism he had acquired after it had happened. It took him nearly a year, but he had finally stopped the habit… with the help of Kyle. But now, just like that, he was back to his old ways.

Jacob looked away, ashamed. "I started going to church," he began and Stan sighed. Avoiding the question was practically the same as saying 'no.' "The priests there… they helped me find God." At last, the dam broke, and tears began to form at the corners of his grey eyes. He reached out his thin arms, looking to embrace Stan and gasped in sobs. "I want to repent… I want to repent…."

"When?" Stan asked, bluntly, trying his hardest to not just leave right then and there. He gritted his teeth and narrowed his eyes. "When did you find God? When you came in here?" Jacob lowered his arms, his mouth agape with the pants and his eyes sad. Stan clicked his tongue, raising an eyebrow. "That's pretty convenient."

Jacob found the strength to clench a fist in anger. "I _know_ that Christ is with me!" he yelled at the top of his lungs.

Stan's eyes widened in shock and fury at the statement. "Well, you don't need my forgiveness then, do you?" The man looked back to Stan, his anger draining into grief as he realized what Stan was saying. The raven haired teenager felt his emotions surging through his veins, and finally he couldn't contain it anymore. He stepped forward and loomed over Jacob, towering over the diseased shadow that used to be a man.

" You… _grabbed_ me," Stan started, his voice deep and dark. "You held me down with your hand on my throat so that I couldn't scream… couldn't breathe…. And then you… you left me there." Stan felt tears burning behind his eyes and curled his lips in torment. He rose his voice into an angry shout.

"Do you know how long it took me until I could get through _one_ day without being terrified? Without thinking of you? To let myself be touched again by _anyone_! I couldn't even get near him… I couldn't even… I couldn't…." Stan paused to regain his composure. He wiped the tears away, and the sorrow was replaced with pure unadulterated resentment. "Two years… I've lived with that, and now you have a death bed conversion and you want me to spare you the guilt for your last couple of weeks? **NO!** How can I forgive you for what you did… when Kyle can't even forgive me?"

"Please…." Jacob whispered, losing all his strength, extending his hand once again in a futile attempt to gain Stan's trust. "I just want to be forgiven. Please…."

"You feel every bit of this agony," Stan cursed, growing taller again, casting a dark shadow over the man before him. "Every single moment until it _ends_ you… and then maybe you'll begin to understand what you did to me."

Stan shook his head as he backed away toward the door. "You're getting exactly what you deserve. I hope you rot in hell with the rest of us." He turned the door knob and stormed from the hospital without another word.

XOXOXOXO

Vincent looked up from his book as Stan walked into their room. The brunette tried to be unobtrusive; he didn't know how his roommate had reacted and didn't want to push any buttons by accident. He flipped through the pages, but wasn't reading any of the words, casting his gaze up to Stan between sentences. Neither of them said a word, Vincent on the bunk bed and Stan against the door.

Stan turned around and locked the door with a loud snap. He placed his head against the wooden frame, paying no attention to the black bangs that covered his eyes. Vincent coughed quietly and set down his book. His anxiousness overcame him as he cleared his throat.

"So…" he started, choosing his words carefully. "How'd it go?"

Stan clamped his eyes shut and scratched his nails into the wood. His mouth contorted into an open frown and he gasped through a clenched jaw. Slowly, Stan ran his head and body along the door as he slid toward the ground in hushed sobs. He curled himself into a fetal position and drew his knees in to cover his face.

"Stan?" Vincent asked, gingerly. He bolted from the bed and knelt down beside the weeping boy. "Stan, are you okay?"

"I c-couldn't- couldn't," he gasped in reply, his face and eyes red with the tears. "I'm s-so… I c-cou… he was d-dying and I couldn't even…." Stan's words trailed off as he melted into the sobs.

"Shh," Vincent whispered, trying to calm him down. He brought Stan into an embrace and rocked him back and forth as one would a little child. "It's gonna be okay, Stan," he assured. "You can't blame yourself for the things he's done."

"I'm s-so… s-such a h-horrible person!" Stan cried, his voice muffled by Vincent's arm.

"Don't say that!" Vincent reprimanded, a little too forcefully. "You did what you thought was right. You can't be horrible if all you did was listen to your heart." The brunette saw that his words weren't getting fully through to the boy. Vincent bit his lip and tried to think of what to say.

"You're not horrible," he said, bluntly. "I don't think you're horrible. And the guys and New Grace who you've met don't think you're horrible. You're parents and you're friends would never think you were horrible, no matter what you did." Vincent swallowed rubbed Stan's hair, and added quietly: "Kyle doesn't think you're horrible."

Stan finally looked up from his cowering and stared straight at Vincent. "Stan?" the teen asked, a little concerned with the sudden change of demeanor. "Stan, what is it?"

"Take me upstairs."

XOXOXOXO

"Stan!" Vincent called, trying to keep up with his roommate who was practically running through the halls of camp New Grace. "Stan, Kyle's room is on the same floor as ours, why do you want to be up here?"

"I'm not going to Kyle's room," Stan informed, his voice as cold as ice. He dashed through a doorway, the wooden slab banging against the wall with thunderous force.

"Stan, this room is empty," Vincent stated, utterly confused at what they were doing.

"Exactly," the raven haired boy spat. He walked quickly to the other side of the room and threw open the double windows. The cold night air rushed in with a chilling breeze and tousled both of the boys' hair.

"What's going on?" Vincent asked, getting behind Stan, furrowing his brow with worry.

"What you said before," Stan began, not turning to look at the other teen. "That Kyle didn't think I was horrible. That was a lie. Kyle thinks I'm an abomination. And you know what?" Stan forced out a raspy chuckle that faded into choke. "He was right. He was totally right. I'm an abomination not only to God but to the entire human race. And Cartman was right… there is only one way to fix all this."

Vincent shook his head. "You're not going to," he growled, more out of disappointment than anything. "I'm not going to let you. You can't just end it. You might think it's the only way out, but suicide is never the answer, Stan!" Vincent's voice rose to an angry roar, hoping that it would bring his roommate back to his senses.

"I can't go back to being straight," Stan whimpered, ignoring Vincent's words. "Congratulations. You win. You were absolutely right just like the rest of them. I can't change being gay." Stan lowered his face as he looked out the window toward the setting sun. "But I can't live in a world were my only friend, my only… my only love… hates me."

"He doesn't hate you!" Vincent screamed, but again he went unheard.

"He threatened to kill me if he ever saw me again," Stan continued. "He would want this." The distraught boy lifted one foot up onto the window sill and braced himself to jump.

"Stan."

The crystal clear word landed on the teenager's ears heavier than any shout had before. He was totally compelled to turn back around to face Vincent, if but for one more moment.

"Stan, if you do this," Vincent continued, his voice thick with disappointment and disgust as he pointed a deft finger at him. "You will be worse than an abomination. You'll be a coward. If you just give up and end it now, you'll prove that Kyle had every right to yell at you like he did. Instead of trying to make it up to him, you're going to leave him alone to deal with all the pressures of this God forsaken world by himself, without any light to guide him. Kyle will forever be lost in his own misgivings because you won't be there to hold his hand through the misery. If you jump, you will lose all the respect I ever had for you. If you kill yourself… I will _not_ mourn you. I will forget your name and who you were; what you meant to me. And everyone that you've ever known will forget you, ashamed that you had a lack of creativity and came to this conclusion. Just know that if you kill yourself, _no one_ is going to feel sorry for you, and nothing will ever be right with your world."

Stan stopped, his eyes glazed over and dark. Slowly, a tiny simper spread across his lips and he closed his eyes to the universe. "You see…?" he said, his voice small and far off. "Even you hate me now…."

Vincent rushed toward the window with outstretched arms, but his fingers grasped frantically at nothing but open air and the only sound left was a sickening thud below.


	8. Broken

This chapter is pretty long compared to the other ones. When you read it, you'll see why; I just didnt' want to split it all up into seperate chapters. They would be way to fucking short!

**Disclaimer: One of these days, I'm going to lie and say I do own South Park, and you know what? Probably nothing will happen. But, in case you didn't know by now, I don't own it. So... what evs...**

Enjoy!

**Persevere**

Chapter Eight

Sharon Marsh, distraught and terrified, frantically dashed through the same medicinal halls of the hospital that Stan had walked through not three hours ago. She was wearing the grieving face that had so disgusted Stan back then. It seemed like ages since that time.

Sharon panted heavily, but not from the strain of running; the hysteria for her only child consumed her every breath as she envisioned the worst. "I came as soon as they called," she cried to the nurse behind the counter after catching her breath.

"Name please," the other woman demanded, hardly even looking up.

"Sharon Marsh, my son is here, he was admitted an hour ago."

The woman stopped pecking her fingers against the keyboard and lifted her eyes in annoyance. With a sigh, she corrected herself. "Name of the person you are here to visit, ma'am." Sharon was taken aback by the coldness of the nurse's words. Didn't she know that he son was somewhere in this hospital, possibly _dead_?! Didn't she _care_?

"Stanley Marsh," the mother informed after calming herself down.

"Room 124," the nurse replied almost instantly, as if she already knew the room number, but refused to say it before Sharon had given her a name. Stiffly, she returned to her original position, her eyes glued to her computer screen.

"Thank you," Sharon mumbled, at least trying to sound like she meant it. Her dazed run had been reduced to a brisk walk; her legs slowing down as they carried her closer to the impending doom awaiting within her sons room. All sorts of horrible thoughts entered her mind, and she had already convinced herself that her son must be dead.

Slowly she entered the hospital room and immediately broke down into tears. The first sight she saw was her son's bruised face and ragged black hair strewn everywhere. But that was the most traumatizing part of it. Stan's eyes were closed….

Sharon broke down to her knees and let out a long shrill cry. A cry for her son. A cry for the world that had driven her son to suicide. A cry for all humanity that seemed lost and desolate. Her hand hovered over her agape mouth as if to try and stop herself from screaming but couldn't get any closer than it actually was. Suddenly she jolted to 

her feet and crossed the room in desperation. Quietly she sobbed as she reached for Stan's slender fingers.

"Mrs. Marsh?" came a voice from behind. The mother turned, her eyes red with tears. A tall man in a white coat entered with a clip board in one hand and a pen in another. "I'm so very sorry you have to see your son in such condition."

"Oh you do, do you?" she replied softly, all emotion drained from her voice.

"If it is any consolation, we suspect he'll be out of the coma within a few days." Sharon lifted her head with a snap and her eyes grew wide. The doctor greeted her shock with a raised eyebrow. "You thought he was dead?" he asked, crossing the room toward all the sophisticated equipment hooked up to Stan's body.

"Don't worry," he continued, understandingly. "It's a common reaction. Most mother's fear the worse and completely forget to check the equipment before… jumping to conclusions." He rested his hand on top of a heart monitor and Sharon watched as it blipped with life- slowly… but surely.

"Thank you, doctor," Sharon commended, her hands trembling with the adrenaline. "Thank you for saving my son's life."

"Don't thank me," the grey haired man sighed, returning his attention to his clipboard. "Thank the architect of the New Grace building. If they had built it only five feet taller, you're son would not be with us. Thankfully, even though he has six broken bones, none of them are his spine. That was only fractured slightly."

"What could have driven him to… to suicide?" Mrs. Marsh asked to no one in particular. "Was it because he was ga- homo…." Her words trailed off into thought.

"I'm sorry, but I have no answer for that," the doctor answered. "It's not a big surprise for me, though. We have an entire wing dedicated to New Grace victims."

"Victims?!" Sharon shrieked and the doctor coughed into his hand.

"I use 'victims' loosely, Mrs. Marsh," he started, trying to cover his tracks. "It is a fact, however, that one fourth of the boys admitted into Camp New Grace eventually end up here. And only half of _that_ number… returns home."

"Oh my God," Sharon gasped, covering her mouth again. "That many have all tried to… k-kill themselves?"

The doctor merely nodded in reply. "You're son is one of the lucky ones. He'll live." He headed for the doorway, flicking his pen against the papers on the clipboard and slid the heavy thing into a slot on the door. "I'll leave you two alone for a while. 

Even though Stanley is in a coma, some professionals theorize that he can still hear you. Try talking to him. Good evening, Mrs. Marsh."

"Stanley?" Sharon called, leaning close to her resting son. "I don't know if you can hear me, but…." She stopped and tried to think of what exactly she did want to say. But one thing constantly pestered her thoughts. "I t-told you," she started, taking her son's hand into hers. "I told you that none of us wanted you to go to that camp. We all accept you for who you are. Me, you're father, even Shelley."

Sharon smiled a little at the thought. "And I know what you would say. 'Shelley thinks I'm a turd.' Well, I'll have you know that she's matured now that she's gone off to college. If you stayed home long enough every once in a while you'd see that."

Gingerly his mother wiped Stan's bangs from his face and forced a grin onto her lips. "You're going to be fine," she whispered, more to assure herself than anything. "I'll call some of your friends. They'll come visit you, I'm sure. There's Kenny and Eric, Butters and his little blonde friend. You'd love to see them wouldn't you? And of course, the first person I call will be Kyle."

Sharon jumped as the heart monitor beeped rapidly for a few seconds before returning to normal. "Oh Stan," she murmured. "You really can hear me! Don't worry, son. I'll stay here tonight. I won't leave you alone. I'm you're mother. I couldn't think of anything else but you."

XOXOXOXO

The door to room 124 opened with a slight squeak and Kenny entered into the dark, stale hospital space. He walked silently to the window and opened the blinds, the morning sun bursting through the stainless glass. The light streamed across to Stan's bed, but there was no reaction from the seemingly lifeless boy. Kenny stared out the window for a few minutes. He never was much for words.

"Stan," he began, his voice still and clear. He turned around to face his friend, adjusting his orange long sleeved shirt and dark Khaki jeans that hung tantalizingly low on his hips. "I still can't believe you're gay." He got closer to Stan, his mind creating a whole conversation with the other boy, even if he wasn't talking.

"Yeah, I thought so," he replied to his own head. "But, you're probably sick of people apologizing for your failed suicide attempt. I didn't want to be like them. What? I'm the first person who's visited you today? Wow, you have some pretty shitty friends. Well, that's true; it is nine in the morning. Normal people aren't awake yet."

"If you're so intent on me asking," he continued haughtily, setting himself down on the edge of Stan's bed. "How are you feeling? Broken? Hahaha, you're a riot man, even when you're in a coma. I am surprised Kyle hasn't come to visit yet. I know you two are on sour terms right now, but still…."

"Don't get snippy with me!" Kenny shouted, crossing his arms. Slowly he relaxed and let out a long sigh. "It's kinda scary how well I know you… that I can hold an entire conversation with you and you don't even say a word." His eyes drooped as the solemn atmosphere began to get to him.

"I haven't seen Cartman in weeks," Kenny mumbled. "He and I used to be best friends, I don't know what happened. After you and Kyle had that fight, we just sort of drifted apart, the four of us. Kyle stopped coming the bus stop every morning. You started riding your bike to school. Cartman didn't say a word, didn't make jokes, wasn't an ass for the first time in his life. And you know that I never really say anything unless spoken to." He lightly jabbed Stan in arm and laughed. "Well, most of the time!"

"Stan, you need to come back," Kenny grumbled after a pause, slumping down on himself. "Nothing… nothing is really the same without you there. I miss it. I miss the four of us. I don't care if you're gay. But, I do care if you're my friend or not. C'mon buddy… wake up…."

XOXOXOXO

The clock's ticking for a few priceless moments was in time with the beeping heart monitor as it struck noon. Almost right on the dot, Vincent quietly entered through the door. He was slouching lower than usual and kicked discarded pill across the floor with his foot. He looked up, his face melting into a frown. He stared at Stan's face and let out a sigh. He ruffled with a paper absently as he timidly made for Stan's bed.

"I'm so sorry, dude," he apologized. "This is all my fault. I shouldn't have said those things. Maybe if I had more time to think… I could have said something that would have kept you from jumping. It kinds sucks you know. Not only do I feel fucking guilty, but now the police are threatening me with euthanasia."

With a grunt, he flopped into a nearby chair and winced at how hard it was. "By the way, no such luck on the boyfriend hunt, so I left New Grace. Being there for that long screwed with my brain I think." Vincent pinched his nose at his brow in annoyance. "I have such bad luck. No offence, but being in a coma looks pretty good right now, buddy. Heh, I've hardly known you at all, but I can tell you this: You and I are fucked. 

Nothing good is ever gonna happen to us, you know? If there is one guy with worse luck than us, I'd love to meet him!"

"Um… excuse me?" the boy was so quiet, Vincent didn't even hear him enter. He stood up with a start and, after he had gotten a good look at him, nearly fell back into his seat. He was so adorable! "Is this Stan's room? I drove Butters here to see him."

As if on queue, the other blonde boy bounded into the room, grinning from ear to ear. "That man was so nice!" he chuckled. "I'm so glad I was able to push his wheel chair for him."

"You're so nice, Butters," the other blonde teen smiled, but with his hand against his mouth, Vincent was sure the boy didn't hear him. Gradually, he lifted his golden eyes up long enough to lock gazes with Vincent… and for the first time, they actually stayed there. Vincent was so taken aback, that his normal demeanor went on the back burner as he gaped and blinked like a fish out of water.

"I'm Bradley," the junior informed, biting his lip, but lowering his hand at least. Vincent was snapped from his trance and finally remembered his charm.

"Vincent," he greeted with a nod. "It's great to meet you, Bradley." The brunette looked down to his feet and wiped his forehead in mock relief. "Whew, I'm still standing! For a second there I thought bowled over by your good looks."

"Oh, I'm not-" Bradley started, his face growing crimson. "I mean… thank you."

"I'm so glad you didn't finish that first sentence," Vincent reprimanded, growing to his full height and getting closer to the nervous blonde boy. "I hate when people lie. But you corrected yourself."

Bradley averted his gaze, but couldn't take his eyes off of the other boy. "I like your shirt," he complimented. Vincent looked down for a second and then chortled to himself. It was bright blue, and exact replica of the Camp New Grace shirt; with one not so subtle addition. In a vivid red 'slasher' font just above the normal yellow picture read "_I survived_ …Camp New Grace."

"You do?" Vincent grinned. "Made it myself."

"Really?" Bradley gawked in awe, his eyes lighting up. "C-can you make me one?"

"Sure, but you have to actually survive the camp, first."

"Psh, been there done that," Bradley smiled, waving his hand as if erasing all of Vincent's doubts.

"Get out!" Vincent chuckled, placing his hand on his hips, his eyes mooning over with lust. "Then there's no problem. I'll make you one asap."

"I still have my old shirt from when I went," Bradley thought out loud. "I think it still fits. It might be a little small though."

"Better to show off that body of yours," Vincent suggested, wrapping his arm around Bradley's shoulders. "These baggy clothes you wear do nothing for your figure. But, hey, I have to give you a rain check on your request. My 'business' is re-locating."

"How so?"

Vincent lifted up the slip of paper that never left his hand. "A letter from my mom. We're moving. I can't tell you how happy I am. I new start; a clean slate. No rumors fucking up my stage time!"

"W-what?"

"Long story," Vincent simpered. "Apparently, we're moving to some hick town called South Park."

"That's where I live!" Bradley exclaimed, teeming with excitement. "That's where we all live! Stan, Butters, and me!"

"You're shitting me…" the brunette mumbled in shock. He glanced over at Stan and smiled. "Looks like you're my lucky charm, buddy. Here's to your luck making the same turn." Vincent turned back to Bradley. "You busy at all today? Think we could go for ice cream or something?"

"I'm really hard," the blonde teen blurted out and instantly slapped his hands over his mouth and his face grew ten shades darker. "I meant t-to say s-s-sure…" Vincent laughed as he felt his cheeks flare up as well.

"Hey fellas," Butters chimed in, coming in between the two love birds. "If you're off with Bradley, who's gonna drive me home?"

"I will," grumbled a voice from the doorway. Slowly, Eric Cartman dragged his feet into the room, his hands in his pockets and his eyes low in shame. "I can take Butters home. You two go ahead and get out of here. You're not paying Stan any attention anyway."

"You're one to talk," Vincent growled, squinting his eyes. "You're the one who planted that dark seed in his mind. And you're the one who spread that rumor in the first place. It looks like I'm not really the one to blame after all!"

"Look, I don't have to apologize to anyone but Stan," Cartman mumbled, his eyes still set on the floor, not making eye contact with any of them.

"Damn straight," Vincent hissed. He walked toward the door and towered over the slightly shorter teen. "I have every right to knock you senseless," he whispered into other brunette's ear. "But fortunately for you… I don't think that's what Stan wants. He's your friend still… at least I think. He'll accept your apology."

Bradley and Vincent both left together with Butters lingering next to Stan. "Do you… do you want me to wait outside, Eric?" Butters asked timidly.

"Please?" Cartman asked, his voice low and quiet. After he was sure the room was completely empty, Cartman walked toward his friend and took a deep breath.

"This is hard for me," he started. "You know that. But what's more… I know that no matter what I say, you shouldn't forgive me. You're such a pussy that you probably _will_… but you shouldn't."

Cartman swallowed dryly and rested his hands onto his friend's hospital bed. "Stan… I'm sorry. I've done some pretty horrible things in my life, but none of them to you. I wasn't thinking straight. Kyle does that to me, you know? I guess I just got… jealous. Jealous over that if Kyle were gay… he would definitely pick you over me… and there was nothing I could do to change that. So… I'll say it again, just so you know I'm totally serious."

Eric wiped away a single tear and gasped in one last breath. "Stan… I'm so sorry."

XOXOXOXO

The heart monitor blipped happily in the silence of the room. Gradually, he groaned, his first sign of life in two days. With a strain and a grunt… Stan slowly opened his eyes….


	9. A Confession of Love II

Apparently most of you missed Kyle's little slip up all the way back in Chapter Six. Maybe you should go back and re-read it, paying special attention to Kyle's speech after he sucker punches Stan. It's oh so very subtle, but if you pay close attention, it'll be obvious.

Anyway, if I do say so myself, this is my favorite chapter to date. Not only does it have great angst, but some of the words and phrases I use are so tragically poetic! Sorry if I come off as a bragart, but it isn't often I get to tute my own horn.

**Disclaimer: You are not actually reading this. There is no such thing as Stan or Kyle or even South Park. It is all a figment of you imagination. The only way to snap out of this hypnotic trance is to click your heels three times, spin around in a circle and shout "SHAZAM!" Or maybe you shouldn't. Because the real world that you live in... is inhabited by vampire camels. You laugh now? Just you wait. Soon you'll be screaming "Please, please Mr. Vampire Camel, don't suck my blood and leave me on the dry sand to die!" You'll see... you'll all see...**

**Oh, and I don't own any of the copyrighted material.**

Enjoy!

**Persevere**

Chapter Nine

The awkward silence lasted for nearly five minutes. The entire time, Kyle was trying to keep his eyes as close to the ground as possible, shuffling his feet nervously, not daring to look up for one second. Kenny, on the other hand, stood tall with his hands on his hips and his eyes locked into a bone chilling leer.

"Oh really?" Kyle breathed, his eyes shifting away from his once close friend.

"Yeah," Kenny answered shortly, his tongue as sharp as a knife. "He woke up just yesterday. I've already been to see him." Kyle nodded as if he understood, but Kenny knew that he really didn't. How could he understand when he hasn't even seen Stan yet? "It's funny," the blonde continued, folding his arms haughtily against his chest. "I've always been the first of his friends to visit him. I thought that role was yours to play…."

"Then I guess you haven't been keeping up," Kyle mumbled, running his hands through his thick red hair and looking away again.

Kenny shoved the other boy halfway across sidewalk and Kyle nearly lost his balance. "What kind of bitch are you?" he spat at the stumbling teen. "No, really! What happened to you? You're seriously just going to stand there and tell me that this is none of your business?"

"I know this is my business!" Kyle shouted, turning his back to Kenny.

"Look at you," Kenny sneered. "You won't even look me in the eye anymore." The blonde teenager slowly circled the other boy, his jaw clenched tightly. Kyle continued to avoid his gaze, causing Kenny to snort in disgust. "What's the matter with you. You were always the moral one; the guy who actually had a conscience. When did you stop listening to it?"

"I'm listening to it now," Kyle mumbled, frustrated.

"And I guess it's telling you to be a cry baby about all this instead of manning up to your problems." Kenny stopped in front of Kyle and waited for a response that never came.

Instead, Kyle asked "Why are you here? To guilt me into seeing Stan?"

"I wouldn't be here other wise," Kenny scolded, chuckling under his breath at Kyle's remorse.

"Did he ask you to do this?"

"What, you think I'm that shallow?" the blonde scoffed. "I'm doing this because I remember the good times. You know, back in fourth grade? Yeah, sure I got hurt a lot, but it was fucking fun, wasn't it? Or don't you remember? Are you that far gone from the rest of us?" Kenny stepped forward to lay his hand on Kyle's shoulder, but the suspicious boy reeled back to avoid his touch. Kenny let his hand drop, bewildered by Kyle. "Why are you so afraid of me?"

"'Cause you're gonna push me again!" Kyle yelled, narrowing his eyes.

"C'mon, Kyle, you can take a hit, plenty of people know that." Kenny ground his teeth and decided that enough was enough. It was time to get down to business. "No, you're not afraid I'll hurt you. You're afraid of what I know."

Kyle looked at Kenny suspiciously. "Don't tell me you've forgotten!" the boy continued. "It was only a year ago, at Wendy's 16th birthday party. Stan wasn't invited because of the growing rift between him and his ex. Kinda like the rift that started to form between you two, now."

"Get on with it!" Kyle shouted, impatiently confused about where Kenny was going with this.

"Wendy's party? And a simple game of spin the bottle?"

Kyle's eyes grew wide as he instantly remembered that night… in vivid detail. Kenny nodded with a grin as he saw the realization streak across his friend's face. "There were five guys and only three girls, it was bound to happen eventually!" Kyle tried desperately to explain.

"But we went through with it didn't we?" Kenny pointed out, raising his voice.

"I was drunk!" the red headed teen yelled, uselessly trying again to rationalize his behavior.

"You only had one beer, and that's because I forced you!" Kenny countered, jabbing his finger into Kyle's chest. "You and I went into that closet and we vowed we'd go through with it, and we did! You and I kissed!"

"That doesn't mean anything," Kyle hissed, slicing his hand through the air in anger. "Yeah, we kissed, but wouldn't that make you gay, too? And now look at you! You're the definition of straight!"

"It's true," Kenny agreed, raising his eye brows as he went in for the kill. "I have kissed a lot of girls, made out with a lot of girls, and even had sex with my fair share of girls. But you know the difference between girls getting turned on and guys getting turned on?" Kyle panted as rage washed over him, but knew he didn't have to answer that question. Kenny cocked his head to the side and placed his hands on his hips.

"The difference is: for guys, it's so much easier to see." With one deft finger, Kenny pointed down to Kyle's crotch. Kyle's face nearly turned as red as his hair, but he puffed out his chest in fury, clenching his fists. "It was a really small closet, Kyle. We were right up against each other. Maybe in your 'drunken' state, you didn't notice. But I certainly did."

Kenny turned out, thoroughly satisfied with Kyle's trouncing. But Kyle wasn't about to let him have the last word. "I'm not gay," he growled at the other boy's turned back.

Kenny slowly pivoted on his heels and cast a dark, blood curdling glare over his shoulder. If looks could kill… Kyle would have been a pile of ashes. Kenny knew he had won, so he let Kyle have the final word; maybe it would somehow spare some the boy's pride. In all honesty, Kenny didn't really care at all. As far as he concerned, if he never saw Kyle again… that would be perfectly fine with him.

XOXOXOXO

"Stan honey," Sharon whispered lightly into her son's ear. "Wake up."

"I'm awake, mom," he mumbled, blinking his eyes open. Stan hadn't slept in a long while. Even though he had been brought word that Jacob had passed away in his sleep, he was still having nightmares. Only now, the roles had been reversed. Stan was still appalled at what he said to the poor, dying man. Being so close to death made Stan realize just what it was like to be in Jacob's shoes.

The icy cold hand of death poised at your neck, just waiting for you to fall asleep. Guilt and grief burning a hole through your chest. And all you could possibly want is for someone to walk through that door and take away all the sorrow; give you relief if but for a few moments. To hold your hand and tell you that it would be alright as you journey into the darkness. A ray of light through the shadows of your darkest days.

Stan could have been that ray of light for Jacob. Who knows, maybe he would have lived a little longer without the weight of his deeds resting like the world on his soul. But instead, the raven haired boy had snuffed out Jacob's every last hope and left him crushed with only the bitter sweet promise of death to comfort him. Now Stan knew perfectly well what that felt like. Maybe this was his comeuppance?

"Good, honey," Sharon smiled as she straightened back up. "You have some visitors. Look, dear, it's all your friends!"

Stan turned his head against the hospital bed pillow and simpered as his eyes set upon the grinning faces of everyone. There was Kenny, Cartman, and Butters, of course, standing tall in front of all the rest. Behind them was Vincent, holding hands cutely with Bradley. And shockingly enough, there too was Wendy, timidly grasping a bouquet of flowers.

But the room was dim. There was no ray of light. He wasn't there.

"I didn't know what you liked," Wendy started, inching herself closer to Stan and handing him the flowers. "So, I just got one of every kind the shop had."

"Flowers?" Kenny chuckled. "What is he? A girl?"

"Well I just thought since he's…." Wendy trailed off and instinctively pushed the black hair out of her face. "You're right, I guess that was pretty ignorant of me."

"They're beautiful," Stan assured, after the entire room had burst into a loud fit of laughter and rested the flowers on the bed side table to his left. "You two look good," he said, nodding toward Vincent and Bradley.

"Yeah, well," Vincent started, rubbing his head nervously. "We've gotten to know each other."

"He's really great," Bradley added, holding his boyfriend's hand even tighter. Stan smiled, but couldn't help to feel a little hurt by how happy they were.

"Here," the brunette offered, holding up a bright blue t-shirt. "We're New Grace buddies, we should have matching shirts." Stan reached out and took hold of the "_I survived_… Camp New Grace" shirt. He chuckled at it, thinking that he had only barely survived his experience at the camp.

"What did you get me, fat ass?" Stan finally asked, squinting his eyes objectively.

"I already apologized to you," Cartman yelled. "What more do you want from me? Money?! You're breaking my balls, Stan!" The bed ridden teenager once again let out a roaring guffaw, shaking himself so much that he had to clutch his stomach.

"God," he whispered after everyone had settled down. "I haven't laughed in… since Kyle…." The room grew silent as all of the teenagers cast their gazes to the floor. Sharon looked at them confused, when suddenly a thought pricked her brain.

"I could have sworn I invited Kyle," she said, resting a finger on her chin in thought. "I wonder why he's not here. Maybe he's running late."

"He's not coming," Kenny informed, his face melting into a frown. "I spoke with him earlier today. I don't think he had any intention of showing up."

"Good," Stan spat quickly. "I don't want him here."

"Stan, honey-"

"No, mom!" the teen cut in. "He's my light, I'll admit that but…." He stopped, trying to find the right words. "A while ago, I met the person who raped me two years ago, you all know that by now. He lied on a bed… just like this one… and he looked up to me with the most horribly sad eyes. And yet somehow, I still found the anger in me to deny him his dying wish. I wouldn't forgive him."

The room was as still as the grave and everyone felt obligated to not make a sound, barely even breathing loudly. "I can only imagine that if I was capable of such hate… then there's no telling how Kyle might feel. I destroyed Jacob. I crushed the only dream he had left. And I honestly think… that I killed him. If Kyle did that to me, I don't know how I'd deal with that. He hates me now, everyone knows it."

"We're not the same as we used to be," Stan continued. "There was little we could say… and even less we could do… to keep us together. We buried our friendship away, too deep for either of us to reach. And imagine my surprise… that when we finally took off our own masks… we just weren't who we thought we were. And it pains me to say what we both already knew was true; but Kyle and I? We're through. And I don't think we could ever be together again."

The room stayed quiet and it seemed that with every passing second it grew darker as the sun finally sank below the horizon. Silently, with a tear in his eye, Kyle backed away from the doorway and walked out of the hospital wing.

XOXOXOXO

It had been almost three days before Kyle finally decided to go visit Stan. He had beaten himself up ever since he left the hospital that day. He was too blinded by his tears of sorrow to realize that Stan really did want to see him.

He had only said those things because he was hurt. Kyle knew all about that feeling. He had said some pretty horrible things to Stan because he was hurt. Kyle had been struggling this entire time with his own sexuality. It was time to fess up.

Kyle entered the room, his eyes downcast in shame. "I know you said you don't want to see me," he started right away as he walked toward the hospital bed. "But just hear me out, okay?" Without looking at his friend, Kyle sat down in the near by chair and tried to work out what he was going to say.

"A long time ago," he started, his voice already quivering. "My mother confronted me about my relationship with you. She said we were a little too close and that I should get a girlfriend. I think this was in the sixth grade. Without thinking, I told her that I thought I didn't need a girlfriend. That you, Stan, could be my girlfriend."

Kyle swallowed, choking back the tears. He swore he wouldn't cry until he got the whole story out, but it was starting to look like a promise he wouldn't be able to keep. "I was just a little kid, I didn't know what I was saying! But my parents… they beat me. They said that if I ever turned out gay, they would disown me. That they wouldn't have an abomination for son."

"You remember, don't you?" Kyle continued, still looking at the floor. "That whole year, we would play at your house. Because if we went to mine, I was sure my parents would beat us both! And then, as the years went by, I started to realize with horror that I was actually attracted to you! I had dreams about you and I'd… I-I'd fantasize about you…. But I couldn't let you know. I thought I'd be able to suppress these feelings."

"And then, recently, when I scared you that night. You remember, it was a Friday night, and I jumped out at you. I promised that I'd stay with you that night. I don't know if you knew, but… that morning, I woke up and I was in your arms." Kyle couldn't keep the tears in anymore, and the dam broke. "Y-you were so w-w-warm and I felt s-so safe. I just held you t-tighter and f-fell back a-asleep. I didn't know… I didn't… h-how could I have?"

"Then you confessed you're love for me!" Kyle gasped through the sobs. "All this time I had thought that if you were straight, I would never be tempted to go any further than just my imagination. And that magazine! When my parents found it they… they went and ransacked my room. And they found the websites on my computer. That was all the proof they needed."

"I was so scared that they would kick me out of the house! I wouldn't know what to do, Stan! I'm still only seventeen! I can't support myself yet! I thought that if I distanced myself from you, that it would eventually all go away; the feelings, the accusations, the problems. But they only brewed inside me longer until eventually they burst…. You weren't the only one who tried to commit suicide… only I guess I just wasn't strong enough to actually go through with it…."

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, Stan" Kyle finished, after taking a moment to calm down and regain his composure. "That I love…" Kyle reached out his hand and laid it down on-

An empty pillow.

For the first time since he had walked into the hospital, Kyle looked up from the ground. Stan's hospital bed was empty. He looked around, shocked and confused, but there was nobody in the room.

"Excuse me, son?" a nurse called in as she walked by the door. "This room is reserved for patients only. You can't be in here."

"Where's Stan?!" Kyle shouted, jumping up out of the chair.

"Stanley Marsh?" the nurse confirmed, checking her charts. "He's gone."

"Gone?" Kyle gasped. "Dead?!"

"No!" the nursed chuckled lightly. "He had been complaining of back pain for the last two days. Upon further inspection, doctors found fragments of bone embedded slightly into his spine. Unfortunately, we don't have the proper equipment or staff here to do such a high class operation. He was life lighted to a different hospital about an hour ago. I'm sorry, you just missed him."

"Which hospital?" Kyle asked, hurriedly. If he had time, he might still be able to make it to visit Stan and confess to him.

"Um…" the nurse muttered, looking over her clipboard. "A hospital in New York."

Kyle stopped dead in his tracks and his heart nearly did the same. "New York City?" he asked in a daze. The nurse nodded and swiftly left the room. Kyle stared absently at the doorway, feeling the burn of tears once again building up behind his eyes.

"Kyle?" came a deep voice and the red headed boy was snapped from his trance. It was Mr. and Mrs. Marsh. "Kyle, are you okay?" Randy asked.

"When?" Kyle stuttered. "When will you be back? When will Stan-" Randy and Sharon looked at each other with worried glances.

"I'm sorry Kyle," Randy answered. "But we won't be coming back."

"What?" Kyle tried to say, but could only mouth the word. All of his strength had left him.

"I've found a new job up in New York," Mr. Marsh continued. "They're paying me practically double what I was getting here in South Park. We're selling the house and moving there right away. Sharon has already found the apartment. We only came back to the hospital to fill out some final paper work. We have to be on the next plane to New York in little more than an hour."

"You have to understand Kyle," Sharon chimed in. "Stan is going to need a lot of recuperative work. He's going to need trainers and assistants. If we don't do this professionally, Stan may lose feelings in his legs or, God forbid, may not even be able to walk. New York has plenty of people who are perfect with those kinds of things. There's no one like that here in South Park, and there's no way we could make the commute every time Stan needed it. Add in the fact that Shelly's college in is only a few hours from New York City… it's just the best solution."

"But you're coming back, right?" Kyle asked again, unable to wrap his mind around the terrible revelation.

"No, Kyle," Randy answered, softly. He took out a piece of paper and wrote something down on it. "We're not. But you and Stan can still keep in touch. This is our new address. You can be… pen pals or something. You know… write him a letter." The two adults turned and headed for the door. Randy stopped and looked over his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Kyle." And with that, they both left.

Kyle cringed and slowly sunk to the ground. He let out silent sobs as he wept, bringing his knees into himself and crying into his arms. He had no idea what to do next. Everything had been stripped from him. And now, when he had finally excepted himself… Stan wasn't there to be his light. To hold his hand. Kyle was lost.

"I guess…" he said to himself after a while. "I guess I have a letter to write…."


	10. Finale

I have a feeling some people are going to hate me for this.

**Disclaimer: I do not own South Park or Chick Fill A... but both are oh so delicious... Mmmmm...**

**Enjoy?**

**Persevere**

Chapter Ten

"_Dear Stan,_

_I think you more than anyone in this entire world could understand what I'm going to tell you. But I just want you to know, that no matter what I've said in the past, I would never want you dead. What you did was partly because of me. No… it was because of me. It was all my fault. I don't think I could ever forgive myself for what you tried to do, because if I had been just a little stronger… if I was half as strong as you are… none of this wouldn't have happened. You wouldn't have gone to Camp New Grace. You and I would have never fought. And you wouldn't have jumped and moved to New York._

_Speaking of which, I feel obligated to tell you what's going to in South Park, since you're no longer with us. I guess, in some ways, you were lucky to get out of this dead end town. The last time I talked with Kenny was while you were in the hospital. I can't apologize enough for not coming to visit you, but I'll explain that later. Do you remember? The four of us. We were inseparable! All the fun times we had, all the adventures! To think at one point I had blocked all of those memories out of my mind. And Kenny tried to remind me, but I was just… too stubborn. I wouldn't listen. _

_And then there's Cartman! Dude, did you know he's gay too?! He just came out to me about a day after you left. Said that he had a crush on me ever since the fourth grade. What is this? I was half expecting Kenny to come out of the closet too, but his closet is so full of women… nah, Kenny straight. That's obvious enough. But, I digress. Cartman said that if he couldn't have me, he'd go after someone else he had a crush on. I bet you already know who it is. That's right! Butters!_

_Imagine all of our surprise when Butters blew up in our faces! He looked us right in the eye and shouted at the top of his lungs 'I'm not gay!' Can you believe it? All of these people coming out, and the one person we were certain was gay… isn't. It actually took Bradley and Vincent to convince us for certain that Butters was telling the truth. Bradley said that they held hands in school because he was too nervous and was using Butters like a shield of sorts. An unfortunate by product for Butters, though, was that everyone thought they were dating. _

_But after that… I guess we all just went our different ways. Ever since he stopped hanging out with us dorks, Kenny became the heartthrob of the school. I think he's already dated and/or fucked every girl in our grade. Needless to say, he's pretty happy! And Cartman joined a few clubs, including theater. He's now the President, much to _

_Vincent's chagrin. But they made a deal with each other; Cartman would be the stage manager and Vincent would be the stage star, haha. So far, it's working out pretty well. Tickets are selling like wildfire. I guess Cartman's natural leadership skills are finally starting to do things that are productive for once._

_And I'm glad that everyone is so happy and making something of themselves. But I'm not. I'm just so… lonely. We don't hang out anymore. I'm the only one who goes to the bus stop anymore. I don't sit with anyone at lunch. I don't have anyone to distract me from my homework. I'm graduating top of my class, second only to Butters, I guess. But it doesn't make me feel any better. Only more empty. There's something big missing from my life. And I finally understand what it is._

_It's you Stan. You were my reason for living, for moving on. I got good grades so you would notice me. Now I get good grades because I have nothing better to do with my life. I miss you so much. But I have no idea what to do. So I'm writing this letter, hoping you'll be able to help me. You know I can hardly make any decisions by myself. You were always something like… my guiding light. You held my hand and pulled me in the right direction. But somehow, without you here, my path is shrouded in doubt and darkness._

_I'm gay, Stan. And I love you, possibly more than you love me. I'm nothing without your ocean blue eyes and your soft raven colored hair. Without you by my side, I wither like a desert flower without water. I can't breathe without you near me. My life is just too pointless, going nowhere. _

_I came out to my parents. Imagine how horrible I felt when they told me they were okay with it. I nearly shot myself. All of this denial and hate directed toward you was because I was afraid my parents wouldn't accept me. And here they are, perfectly fine! They said that they talked it over with themselves and our rabbi… they even consulted Father Maxi, just to be sure. They said that God would rather them love me than hate me for any reason. Great, so now they don't hate me, but I hate myself even more. It just proves that everything I do is for nothing, and I lose everything because of it. Because you are my everything, Stan. You are my everything._

_I'm hoping you'll write back. I'm hoping you'll be understanding, even if I don't deserve your forgiveness. You're so far away. Not just in miles, but in leagues. I don't know why you'd want to come back. Because you've proven that you can move on. That you can look forward and not be chained by the past. You've shown everyone how strong you are. Please, lend me that strength. I'm losing what little I had._

_With more love than you could possibly imagine,_

_Kyle"_

XOXOXOXO

He looked down at the letter in his hand. It was growing wet from the sweat coating his fingers. He swallowed dryly and wiped a tear from his eye. He put his finger under the lip of the envelope, tearing it open little less than an inch.

Stan withdrew his hand and stared blankly at the envelope. He knew Kyle was expecting a reply. _"You're so stubborn!"_ The words rang like chimes through his distant memory. Clenching his jaw and closing his eyes, Stan placed the letter back down on his desk… unopened.

**The End**


	11. The Secret Ending

You people have no faith in me... Ha ha ha

**Disclaimer: This is the _secret_ ending. You can't access this page until you've beaten the game with 100 percent completion and press up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, enter.**

**And I don't own any of the South Park characters.**

**Persevere**

**Secret Ending**

Kyle watched the scene in front of him with misty eyes. He couldn't believe it. But there it was. He saw the barren wasteland. He heard the roar of wrecking balls. He felt the rumble of the bulldozers as he splayed his hands on the dusty ground. Withdrawing into himself, Kyle went into a fetal position, glancing over the tops of his knees at the ungodly sight before him.

This was it.

The end of South Park.

It had been seven years since Stan left. Kyle kept trudging through life, like a ghost with hardly any purpose. He went to South Park's community college, since his family had become too poor to send him some place real. The real estate crash was to blame for that. In fact, the real estate crash was to blame for the destruction of South Park as well.

The wind angrily kicked up debris, causing Kyle's eyes to sting and burn. But he didn't need the help of the summery gusts; the poor youth was on the verge of tears anyway. Everything had just… fallen apart.

"Wow," gasped a voice behind Kyle. "So it is true after all. I go away for a few years and look what happens." Kyle stayed as still as a statue as he listened to the soft footsteps approaching. With a grunt, the person lowered themselves to the ground and joined in sitting with Kyle.

Neither of them spoke. Kyle didn't even look in the man's general direction. After an awkward silence, the red head finally gathered the courage to speak. "Is it you?" he whispered, his voice losing all the strength it had left.

"I couldn't be anyone else," the stranger replied, matter-of-factly. "I came as soon as I heard the news."

"Oh, Stan," Kyle sobbed, reaching over to his former friend and embracing him with a firm hug. "I missed you so much." They stayed in that position for what seemed like lifetimes.

"On the plane here I… I finally read the letter you sent me," Stan explained, swallowing hard. "I never read it before because I was just… just too afraid… too afraid of what it might say." Stan rubbed Kyle's shoulder lovingly. "Imagine my heart ache when I finally opened it…."

All Kyle could muster was a half hearted nod.

"What happened to the others?" Stan asked, resting his chin on top of Kyle's tousled hair, breathing in his scent. He blinked away the tears and rubbed his face into the red head's curly locks. He couldn't believe how much he missed them. How much he missed everything about Kyle. "Kenny?"

"He's a porn star now," Kyle informed, a genuine laugh escaping from his lips, breaking through the tears if but for a moment. "What else? He's always been a pervert. He's been in a lot of erotic films. He left about four years ago. He's famous now. Apparently in all his films, he keeps his hood up, so people keep coming to see more, in case he shows his face."

Stan laughed heartily and Kyle continued. "He says that it's great since he can go out in public with his hood down, and doesn't get any of the lime light."

"That sounds just like him," Stan chuckled, bringing Kyle in closer to him. "And Eric?"

"Law school," Kyle said, bluntly. "I've heard that he's the best student that college has ever gotten. He's been gone for at least five years now."

"And I've been gone seven years," Stan mumbled, feeling tears burning behind his eyes.

"You know," Kyle gasped through his sobs. "I never realized how empty my life was this entire time… until I heard your voice again. We may not have known it back then but… you Stan… you were our link. The only thing keeping us together. When you left we all discovered that… without you, we had nothing in common. And we just went out separate ways."

"My god, Kyle. I've left you all alone." Stan broke out into gasps and began to weep, laying his head down into Kyle's shocks of red hair, staining them with his hot tears. "You've been all alone for so long and it's all my fault. I thought that by leaving, maybe we would learn to be stronger. But all it did was tear us down even harder." There was a chaotic crash in the distance as one of South Park's houses tumbled to the ground into a ramshackle pile of wood and dust.

Kyle joined in his sobs and nestled deeper into Stan's chest. "No, this is my fault. I should have been stronger. I should have told you sooner. This… this hurt… none of this would have happened if it wasn't for me!"

Together the wept. They cried for their sins and their misgivings. They sobbed for the love they had for each other which never bloomed until now. They gasped for the loss of their home town and for the wasted years of their lives. It all just seemed so… hopeless.

"Dude, Stan! Why are you crying?" called a voice. Stan and Kyle perked up their ears and looked at each other, but it wasn't either of them.

"Yeah, you fucking Jew," came another shout. "What, are you a fag now too?"

"Shut your fucking mouth, fat ass!" Kyle shrieked, standing up with a jolt and racing toward Kenny and Eric. Kyle rammed right into Cartman and wrapped his arms around him, giving him a huge hug.

"Um," Cartman started, obviously caught off guard. "Okay now. That's enough y-you Jew. Get off a me!" Kyle didn't let go, only hugged him tighter, laying his tear stained face into his long lost friend's shirt. "Okay, now I'm starting to get pissed off, you guys!" Cartman may have been complaining, but the crimson blush in his cheeks betrayed his words.

"You two didn't change at all, you know?" Kenny sighed, shaking his head dramatically. "You both still can't forgive yourselves. You're so focused on the past that you forget to turn around and see what you've got right in front of you.

"You're a fucking porn star now?" Stan mused to Kenny, apparently deaf to his words of wisdom. The blonde merely smiled a bemused grin in return.

"_Fucking_ is the operative word there." The friends looked over each other again. Finally, Kenny spoke up again. "The four of us have been gone for a really long time. I guess we all have a lot of catching up to do."

"Yeah," Stan agreed. He reached down and took Kyle's hand into his own, squeezing it tightly as if to say 'I'll never let you go ever again.' "But you know? I think we'll get through it somehow…."

"After all," Kyle added, looking up with his emerald green eyes; the brightest they had been in seven years. "I've finally found my light. My everything."

The four friends turned around and walked into the dazzling sunset with only the busy sounds of construction behind them.

**The End**


End file.
